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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604045">Way Off Track</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon'>FaultyParagon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RWBY AUs [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam is still the worst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Qrow Branwen, Chance Meetings, Clover Ebi-centric, Drama, Eventual Romance, Flirting, Fluff, Flustered Clover Ebi, Gay Clover Ebi, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, I can't believe I'm saying this, M/M, Qrow being in education is such an ongoing heacanon, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life, Stalking, Subways, Very brief scuffle, but i actually miss commuting, curse you covid-19, fair game</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Clover’s commute is about to be made a whole lot more interesting when a man with strangely red eyes starts popping up on his train each morning. Now, all Clover’s got to do is work up the courage to actually talk to him- getting his name might be a good start. The rest, he'll gladly uncover as they go.</p><p>-aka Clover will never be happy keeping Qrow Branwen as just eye candy on his daily commute. FairGame.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna &amp; Ruby Rose &amp; Weiss Schnee &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Clover Ebi &amp; James Ironwood, Marrow Amin &amp; Blake Belladonna, Marrow Amin &amp; Harriet Bree &amp; Clover Ebi &amp; Elm Ederne &amp; Vine Zeki, Qrow Branwen &amp; Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen &amp; Ruby Rose &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, former Blake Belladonna/Adam Taurus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RWBY AUs [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>242</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Look</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We're back with yet another FairGame fic. I've developed this weird attachment to these two. Let me know what you think of this first chapter!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>First Look</strong>
</p><p>The train system in Vale really, <em>really </em>needed an upgrade.</p><p>Despite the fresh coat of paint on each carriage, the new olive-green logo for the Vale Transport System did little to spruce up the general atmosphere of the subway system. The station was still filled with far too many bodies at 7:30AM, more unwashed than anyone would like to truly notice. The scent of urine wafted out from the hidey-holes around the station, a clear, unsettling reminder of the city’s homeless population. Advertisement banners on the walls were vandalized within days of going up, so there was no point in even trying to read them.</p><p>Clover didn’t mind any of these things. The little eccentricities of Vale, he had always thought- the city at the heart of Sanus was so different from his home in Atlas, where the streets had been kept clean and the citizens had all been hardworking and well kempt. While at first, it had been jarring to see the obvious poverty and the sheer amount of <em>people </em>constantly bustling in and about the city, Clover had quickly gotten used to his own routine, compartmentalizing his disgust and stowing it away.</p><p>After all, as long as the pay was good and he was earning solid experience, it didn’t really matter where his work situated him, right? The commute was only temporary- soon, he would save up enough money to buy himself a place closer to the office, and then he could kiss the filthy subway system goodbye.</p><p>“The next train to arrive will be going to Vale- Downtown,” the speakers announced, the woman’s voice rattling off the time and the remaining stops on the line. “All passengers, please wait behind the yellow line.”</p><p>Obediently, Clover took his place near the edge of the platform, shifting his work bag over his shoulder and tucking his hands into his pockets. Right on time.</p><p>Still, as his eye caught sight of the same, long-since vandalized poster advertising his company’s services tucked into the left side of his usual platform, his mind couldn’t help but ponder the possibilities. Software had never really been his passion. Sales, on the other hand, came second nature to Clover. The position as the general manager for the Vale branch of Atlas Security Technologies was a lucrative one for sure, but what else could he apply his experience to? It wasn’t as if he truly had a passion for software security; that was his team’s job, not his. No, his job was to make sure projects stayed on task and that the clients were happy.</p><p>And he was good at it. What else did he need?</p><p>As the wind began to pick up in the tunnel, the air currents from the approaching subway lifting an errant newspaper off the ground and dragging it across a damp tiled floor, Clover simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small set of earbuds. Even the small movement made him wince. <em>Maybe I went overboard yesterday at the gym after all. </em>He had been sore all evening the night before, but he had ignored it- perhaps it would be prudent to take some painkillers once he arrived at the office.</p><p>Still, that would be nearly an hour away. He had just downloaded the latest episode of a new podcast his boss and some coworkers had recommended. He didn’t know if it would be any good, but James Ironwood and his team were all good at what they did, so perhaps their recommendations would ring true, too. Either way, it was something to fill the doldrums of the journey.</p><p>The train rolled into the station. It was empty as usual- Clover’s apartment was right by the start of the line, so he always got his pick of seats. The one he chose was always the same, just a singular seat tucked into the back corner of the first carriage. The windowsill beside it gave him somewhere to prop up his work bag, so he tended to sit there each morning.</p><p>That day was no different. Clover yawned as a soothing woman’s voice filtered into his ears, spewing something about motivation and understanding his true goals.</p><p><em>What are my true goals? </em>The question seemed so banal. He already knew what he wanted to do- buy a better apartment closer to the office. Make sure his team secured their upcoming contracts for which they were halfway through negotiating. Impress James enough into potentially getting that raise he’d been eyeing.</p><p>That was enough. It was dull, true- but it was enough.</p><p>The second stop rolled by. The third, then the fourth. People came and went, shoving each other on the subway as they tried to pack into the carriage as best as they could.</p><p>And then, a tired groan filtered through the air, a figure holding onto the railing right beside Clover’s seat.</p><p>Normally, Clover wouldn’t mind. His office was located off the twelfth stop, so he was more than used to ignoring the other passengers he saw along the way. However, this newcomer somehow managed to stand close enough so that even while looking straight ahead, a formfitting grey blazer was still within view, a leather belt hugging scrawny hips and lanky legs in dark, rumpled slacks.</p><p>Clover frowned in distaste. Who was standing this close? He glanced up, taken aback slightly as he saw a surprisingly-handsome face half-asleep above him. The man in the blazer had grabbed onto one of the olive green railings, clinging on with some half-baked fierceness while his eyes were closed. Thick brows were furrowed, a bitter grimace twisting a wide mouth. Despite the clear sallowness of his skin and the bags under the man’s eyes that seemed to signal a hangover more than any illness, the man was still quite attractive, sporting dark hair streaked lightly with grey and a light dusting of stubble on his chin.</p><p>Clover had to fight back a smile as the subway car jolted, the man nearly losing balance. <em>Okay, he’s definitely hungover. </em>Why anyone would be hungover on a Wednesday of all days, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t there to judge.</p><p>He glanced up at the light-up map on the ceiling of the subway. They were only three stops away from his office, now. <em>I can stand for that. </em>So, he stood up, tapping the man on his shoulder as he paused the podcast on his phone. “Hey buddy,” Clover murmured, keeping his expression pleasant. “You want the seat?”</p><p>The train was rolling into the tenth station now. The man- just a tiny bit shorter than Clover, it seemed- finally opened his eyes, looking up at Clover blearily. Clover sucked in a breath when he looked into the stranger’s face, eyes fixated on the other in shock.</p><p>The other man’s eyes were <em>red. </em>Bloodshot, yes- but the irises themselves were also a deep, smoldering crimson, golden flecks shining faintly underneath the canned fluorescent lighting, hinting at the sheer depth of those eyes. Clover gulped, mouth suddenly dry, absolutely entranced.</p><p>And then, the man’s eyes shot wide open as the announcer called, “University Station. University Station. All passengers, please-“</p><p>“Oh, <em>shit,</em>” the man hissed, his voice surprising low and gravelly. It entered Clover’s ears, sinking down into his core, searing itself into his memory and curling in his gut. Before Clover could say anything, however, the man began pushing himself out of the train, managing to slip past the packed bodies just as the doors closed and the train rumbled back into action.</p><p>It took Clover a few moments for him to finally take a seat once more, his green eyes glazed over in memory of red staring back at him. The man had been attractive before, but with that <em>look-</em></p><p>And suddenly, Clover found himself looking forward to the workday. After all, if he was lucky, maybe he’d find crimson eyes looking back at him on the way home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Second Taste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's chapter 2! I love the engagement in this ship, and reading your sweet comments certainly made a pretty terrible day today quite a bit better, so thanks :D Keep them coming!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Second Taste</strong>
</p><p>His routine for the past sixteen months had been nothing if not comfortable.</p><p>Each morning, Clover walked in, nodded to the receptionist who waved brightly back at him, then entered his office. After his coat was hung up by the door and his laptop was plugged in, ready to get started on the day’s work, he walked out of his office and entered the lounge. He exchanged amicable words with his few staff members as he poured himself a cup of coffee, waiting until he was about halfway through the cup before heading back to his desk. That timeframe gave him plenty of opportunities to ask if Elm’s nieces were doing alright, or if Vine’s early-morning yoga class had gone well. He could easily check in on Harriet based on whether the woman was already swearing up a storm from her cubicle or not, so that was easy. As for Marrow, as long as he thanked the young receptionist for a coffee-well-brewed, Marrow would be energized and ready for the day.</p><p>It was an easy routine, one not easily broken. Habit was a hard thing to break, after all, and his crew had become so familiar with their own patterns that they had practically worn tracks into the floor, guiding them along their daily treks through the office.</p><p>“Morning boss-man!” Marrow called as Clover entered the office that day. Normally, Clover would have been ready for Marrow- unfortunately, after the meeting with the man with red eyes, he had grown distracted throughout his commute there. Barely having finished listening to the podcast episode, Clover was only halfway done tucking his earbuds back into his coat pocket, but unfortunately, Marrow caught sight of them anyways. His pale blue eyes widened as he perked up excitedly, asking, “Did you get to listen to the album I told you about-“</p><p>“Yes, I did,” Clover lied smoothly for the twelfth day in a row. “Thank you for the recommendation.”</p><p>That little exchange was enough to soften Marrow’s smile, the younger clearly just happy to get the appreciation. So, Clover headed into the office, ready to take on the day.</p><p>His interaction that morning with Vine was similar. “Did you get to listen to the podcast I recommended?” the tall, gaunt man said evenly, sipping on his tea with his usual composure.</p><p>Clover nodded. “I did,” he said. “It was informative.” He had already forgotten it all.</p><p>“Good to hear.” Like a breeze on the wind, Vine walked back into the main office, floating to his cubicle without a trace of emotion on his face.</p><p>Clover’s eyes dragged across the office floor to Harriet, the petite woman already furiously muttering to herself as she worked across three different monitors. <em>Well. She hasn’t broken anything yet. </em>Sipping his coffee, he found his mug halfway empty. Time to go back to his desk.</p><p>It was a small office, without the real excitement of corporate, but at the end of the day, it was a job. That was all that mattered.</p><p>As he placed his coffee mug down on his desk, however, his cell phone lit up. He paused, glancing down at the screen. The text message that had come in immediately made his stomach roil, the coffee churning.</p><p>It was from his mother. <em>Coming home for the family reunion?</em></p><p>He sighed, typing his response with one hand while he opened up his calendar on his computer with the other. <em>No, </em>he replied.</p><p>Immediately, the phone call he had long-learned to expect rolled in. Picking it up without a second thought, he quickly began working on an email to arrange a meeting with an already-interested potential client. “You won’t change your mind?” said the disappointed voice on the other end.</p><p><em>Hello to you, too. </em>“No. Now, if that is all, I have to go. I’m at the office-“</p><p>His mother’s voice was little more than a whisper- proof enough of the same, cyclical conversation that shouldn’t have been happening. “But Clo, we miss you-“</p><p>“I will not be present. Enjoy the event without me.” Clover pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold in the weary breath he longed to release. “Now, I need to go, okay?”</p><p>“Fine. Think about it?” And the woman hung up, leaving him tired and annoyed. Her calls had been getting more frequent as of late. He had no idea why, but it was getting to him.</p><p>Still, he had work to do. So, Clover pushed aside his annoyance and focused on the task at hand, a smile settling onto his lips as he began looking over the portfolios for that afternoon’s client meeting. <em>This </em>was his element. <em>This </em>was where he needed to be. No vacation time needed to be wasted on family reunions.</p><p>That thought elicited a quiet, ironic laugh from Clover as he worked at his desk, sipping his coffee like every day before. He truly believe that staying in Vale- all false veneer and shine covering poverty-filled, piss-scented, vandalized subway trains like corrupted veins pumping filth through the city- was better than visiting Atlas.</p><p>Oh, how far he’d fallen.</p><p>Then again, he had found something interesting that morning that kept him going all through the day. By the time he was walking out the door at 4:30PM, waving goodbye to Marrow and nodding to the building’s security guard, Clover found himself unusually excited to get back to the subway, where he’d take his usual seat in his usual carriage during the lull in afternoon traffic.</p><p>After all, he might see that man again. At least, he hoped he would. His luck generally tended to land in his favour, so he didn’t think too much of it.</p><p>However, there was no hint of red eyes on his commute home, nor the next morning. Clover even went so far as to keep his eyes peeled out of the window, scanning the crowd standing on the platform between the fifth and eighth stop on Clover’s journey. Still no stranger. The trip home proved just as fruitless. For a moment, Clover almost wondered whether the attractive man had been nothing but his imagination playing tricks on him.</p><p>Then, lo and behold, Friday morning rolled around, bringing with it the same scent of unwashed bodies and exhausted, grumbling commuters ready for the weekend’s brief respite. And, amongst that crowd, standing two seats down and gripping onto one of the olive-green handrails as if his life depended on it, was the stranger.</p><p><em>His </em>stranger: all crimson eyes and downturned lips and skin that looked almost porcelain under the flickering lights of the subway tunnels washing through the windows. The man no longer looked two seconds from dying, managing to hold himself up straight and tall despite the deep dissatisfaction etched into his features. He pushed loose blackish-grey locks out of his eyes and glanced around, red blinking blearily at the rest of the passengers before falling on Clover.</p><p>Clover simply looked back, entranced. Green locking with red.</p><p>And then, the stranger looked away. Clover didn’t fault him for it. He was just another commuter on the train, just another face in the crowd buried underneath the city of Vale.</p><p>It did bring Clover some satisfaction to know that he hadn’t been wrong- the man hadn’t been a dream. He tucked away his headphones, podcast abandoned once they rolled into University Station just in case the man spoke again.</p><p>He didn’t. Clover still felt a smile linger on his lips long after he arrived at the office that day. It was a change in routine, and all it had taken was seeing <em>him.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Third Row</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave a comment if you're reading along! I'd love to get some feedback.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Third Row</strong>
</p><p>“I’ve found this one quite interesting,” James murmured, spinning his laptop so that Clover could see the screen. He examined the front page of yet another entrepreneurship podcast. “It’s practical, and it gives good, actionable advice. The speakers are two men who began their careers by-“</p><p>Clover mentally checked his expression, ensuring that his smile was perfectly affixed onto his face. Once he was content with how invested he looked, he allowed his mind to drift off, bitterly cursing himself. <em>You mention that you finished listening to your old favourite show one time in a meeting, and suddenly everyone wants to give you their recommendations. </em></p><p>Frankly, he didn’t want James’ suggestions. He was here to work, not to dally around the office and chat about what his colleagues were tuning into; their few dinners as an office had made it abundantly clear that while he respected them all, James especially for his ability to oversee all of AST with such confidence and charisma, Clover was not interested in extending those relationships. Even though they only saw each other once every few weeks, Clover already found his patience wearing thin with the elder that day.</p><p><em>Since when have I been like this? </em>The thought wandered into his mind, and he quashed it without qualm. Things had changed over the past two years.</p><p>James’ screen shifted away from Clover again, so Clover tuned back in, nodding with a friendly smile. “I’ll be sure to take a listen,” he said warmly.</p><p>His boss smiled, clearly pleased with himself. Then, he stretched out a kink in his neck and stood, his towering frame hulking over Clover’s desk. “And how are <em>you </em>doing, Clover?” James asked as he put away his laptop. “What’s going on with you?”</p><p>Clover froze, letting out a small sigh. “I’m doing well,” he replied idly, leaning back in his chair. He watched the elder stroll over to the large window beside Clover’s desk. “Nothing new to report.”</p><p>James looked out of the window with a slight crease in his brow, large hands held behind his back as he contemplated those words. “Hm. You’re sure?”</p><p>“Why do you ask, sir?”</p><p>James laughed, an abrupt bark more than anything. “Clover, all you’ve done for nearly a year and a half is <em>work,</em>” the man insisted. “Have you even bothered to explore Vale? See the sights? Make some friends?”</p><p>
  <em>I’m just here to make some money, buy a better apartment, figure out what’s next- </em>
</p><p>“It’s just taken me a little while to settle into everything,” Clover said smoothly, walking over to the door. “Would you like any coffee before you head out?”</p><p>With nothing but an exasperated, if not mildly affectionate sigh, James walked to the door, clapping Clover’s shoulder reassuringly as he passed. “You’re doing great work here, Clover,” he announced. “Keep it up.” Then, James headed out of the office- he had a flight back to Atlas to catch, after all.</p><p>Just as Clover had a subway to catch. “Make sure all the reports are sent to me by Monday morning,” he told Marrow sternly as he closed his personal office. “I want all the portfolios ready.”</p><p>“I’ll make sure he does it, chief,” Elm called, waving goodbye from the lounge.</p><p>The other employees tended to dawdle after hours, so they would close up, leaving Clover to walk out of the office, ready to head to the subway and, hopefully, find that man again.</p><p>Those hopes rang clear and true in his heart as he boarded the train, eagerly awaiting University Station to pop up. When the train finally rolled to a stop, another wave of work-weary passengers flooding in all ready to take on the weekend, Clover made sure to keep his eyes peeled for red eyes and a grey blazer.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p><em>I don’t know what I was expecting. </em>The chances of actually bumping into the man on the return trip was a fool’s errand, he knew- still, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. What was he supposed to focus on now? All of his work had been completed for the week, and there was no way to move forward until Monday with any of the clients.</p><p>He sighed, breath long and weary. Maybe he’d give that business podcast James had recommended a try. He could at least listen to it while cleaning his apartment- he hadn’t done that in a while. Grocery shopping would be good, as his meal prep had finally begun to run out after two months of eating the same meals day in, day out. Maybe he’d go for a jog over the weekend too, if the forecast turned out alright. He had some mail to send. He could drop by the post office while on his jog, sure.</p><p>The list went on and on, keeping him occupied on the way home. And, as mundane as it was, life moved on.</p><p>Until Monday morning.</p><p>He had treated himself to a coffee before boarding the subway that morning, having not been able to will himself out of the apartment otherwise. The rainfall had been disgustingly thick, sheets of water drenching the streets and flooding the drains until they overflowed everywhere. Even after all this time, he could never get used to the damp of Vale, so unlike the nearly year-round snow of Atlas. So, the coffee had been a nice addition to the ambiance of the drowning subway, the scent of cheaply-roasted coffee beans enough to wash away the stink of musty water and filth permeating through the air.</p><p>At least the carriage stayed relatively empty. No one liked getting out of bed on Mondays, especially not rainy Mondays in Vale.</p><p>Clover found himself stopping short in surprise when, at the fifth station on his route, a familiar man loped into the train. Red eyes were bleary as always as the man tucked a dripping umbrella under his arm, dashing across the fairly-vacant carriage to take a seat two rows in front of Clover, just across the aisle. Within a few moments of taking a seat, the stranger had pulled out a small clipboard covered in papers and a pen. He tore the lid off with his teeth, holding the red cap between his lips while he began to frantically read over the top paper, grimacing when his hair managed to drip water onto it in the corner.</p><p>Clover watched this all with intent fascination. <em>He’s a professor of some sort, </em>he realized as the man scribbled notes over the page before encircling what could only be a total at the top. Then, the man pulled out the next paper from the stack and began his process of marking it up in red all over again.</p><p>It was only five stations. Just five stations that Clover was able to sit there, utterly tuned-out of the world, watching this unknown man mark what he assumed were university papers before heading off to Beacon University, probably to teach. Clover wondered what kind of professor he would be- would he be kind? Forgiving? No, with all that red and that sneering scowl, he was probably strict. Strict, but fair- Clover could remember that raspy, low voice, could imagine it ringing through a large lecture hall. What subject would it be? Physics? No, too much. He didn’t seem like a natural sciences man, nor an engineer. English? He didn’t seem like one to overanalyze things that didn’t need to be overanalyzed. Perhaps he taught criminology, or psychology- that voice picking apart the human mind wouldn’t be too bad.</p><p>Or maybe he taught small classes. Just twenty people- a small, niche department. Philosophy, maybe. Or languages. He’d perch his lanky frame on the edge of his desk, challenging ethics and moral code, or repeating grammatical nuance utterly lost on his students. That voice would turn into a purr as he leafed through the pages of their texts, putting students on the spot, forcing them to share their thoughts with the class before revealing that either way, they were all going to fail this paper he was mercilessly marking in the sopping-wet Vale subway.</p><p>Finally, University Station came up. The man hurriedly shoved the papers back into his bag, capping the pen and spitting out a curse as he stabbed his cheek with it in the attempt, leaving a small streak of red ink by his mouth. Clover watched it all, so spun up in his own tales that he scarcely registered the train door closing behind the man.</p><p>Just as the train began to move on to the next stop, Clover saw the singular typed-out paper the man had left behind on the seat. And before he knew it, his body moved; the paper was in his hands; the man was gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Fourth Read</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Am I stretching this first meeting out too long? …maybe. Oh well. Welcome to the slow burn (but not really, it’ll pop off soon just you wait)</p><p>As always, let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Fourth Read</strong>
</p><p>Clover only had two stops before he had to exit the train. He glanced at the platform disappearing in a blur behind him as the subway trundled along, carriage shaking and passengers too weary to take notice. The paper in his hands had been marked, all covered in red underlines with an encircled grade at the top; the man probably needed to give it back to the owner soon.</p><p>He glanced at his watch. There was no time to jump off at the eleventh station and grab a train back. Even if he did, it would be for what? How could he possibly find the stranger in an entire university campus? He had never even been to Beacon University, not even to see the famous gardens or museums. He’d get lost without a doubt.</p><p>His indecision ate up the rest of his time, and soon, he was trudging out of the train at the twelfth stop, dejectedly tucking the paper into his bag. He could figure out a plan later.</p><p>However, the knowledge of the paper’s presence in his bag was ultimately a distraction. Every chance Clover got, he longed to rip the paper out and take a look. In his daze on the train, he had yet to look at the actual contents of the page. Once he did, he’d likely see the name of a professor for which it was written, and the thought of finally putting a name to that face made Clover’s spirit burn with more curiosity and fire than any of his meetings could. Still, he kept it inside, maintaining his calm demeanor the best he could until the end of the day.</p><p>Of <em>course </em>he had had meeting after meeting that day, preventing him from having even the slightest respite.</p><p>The moment his final meeting ended and he had closed his office door, he let his calmness slip, rushing forward and retrieving the paper. It was a short piece, barely reaching the bottom of just one page. Was it a summary? A short critique?</p><p>He had to bite back a laugh at the savage commentary left in scratchy red scrawl, barely legible with all the bumps and jagged lines likely left by the moving train carriage. The paper seemed to be an analysis on the sociocultural implications of some action in a novel- was the man a literature professor?</p><p><em>This kid’s going to fail, huh. </em>The final grade was <em>not </em>pretty.</p><p>Clover finally allowed his eyes to travel to the header on the paper. The student’s name meant nothing to him. The two lines below it, however, meant all the world.</p><p>
  <em>Dr. Q. Branwen</em>
</p><p>
  <em>SOCI 2207</em>
</p><p>Clover let his eyes linger on those words, tracing each line on the page so many times they engrained themselves into his mind. <em>Dr. Q. Branwen. Okay. </em>His thumb brushed over the crinkled page, trying to smooth it out to no avail. <em>SOCI- sociology? </em>He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine the stranger discussing income inequality and arguing about racism at the front of a large lecture hall. A small smile quirked his lips, the image solidifying in his mind, taking shape. He could see that.</p><p>He had two options: this Dr. Branwen could be a completely different prof and the stranger was simply a teaching assistant, or the stranger was a Ph.D in something related to sociology.</p><p>It didn’t matter. All that <em>did </em>matter was that Clover finally had a thread to grasp onto.</p><p>He was halfway through his train ride home when he realized how odd the whole affair must have looked to any outsider- a grown man silently clutching a single piece of marked-up paper, grinning on and off like a fool. At least he had had the sense to put it in a clear protector rather than just attempt to keep it dry and damage-free despite the rain.</p><p>Was it weird that Clover was so invested on finding out more about the stranger? It couldn’t be. After all, who in the world had red eyes? Gazes like that belonged on villains in horror movies, not handsome, grizzled professors.</p><p>Even if his fascination with the situation was a little odd, Clover justified it to himself with ease. <em>I’m just trying to return this paper to him. No point in making him remark it.</em></p><p>When was the last time he had actually looked forward to something after work?</p><p>That thought lingered for a moment, but he brushed it away, allowing himself to focus on the calm music playing in his ears and the rhythmic tapping of raindrops on his umbrella. Although it had soured his mood all morning, the rain was hardly an issue as Clover strutted down the street. He hadn’t felt so enthused to go home in <em>months.</em> Even stepping in a large puddle in halfway to his apartment building didn’t get him down.</p><p>Clover raced through his routine once he was back home; showering, getting dressed, and cooking up the stir fry he had defrosted from the countless pre-portioned meals he had prepped that weekend and stored in his freezer. There was little by way of distraction in his apartment; no knickknacks nor pets to take his attention away from the task at hand. Just white walls and sparse furniture watched his hurried movements until his food was plated and his water bottle was filled. Then, with his bowl of food unceremoniously perched on top of an empty box of protein bars, Clover opened up his laptop and began his search.</p><p>It took barely a minute to land upon the Department of Sociology’s faculty page on Beacon University’s otherwise-confusing website. Portrait after portrait was laid out in neat rows. Clover frowned, chewing absentmindedly on a limp piece of onion. Then, he finally scrolled down far enough, spotting the face occupying his thoughts all week.</p><p><em>Dr. Qrow Branwen, Ph.D, MA, MEd, BA. </em>A charming, polished image smiled back at Clover through the screen, and Clover felt himself melt.</p><p>Qrow Branwen was indeed the name of the stranger, it seemed. In his photograph, a clean-shaven, charming smile glinted in the light, sharp cheekbones highlighting his grin. His hair was brushed back effortlessly off his face, a slight quirk to his brow that seemed almost teasing. Set underneath clean brows were those red eyes, half-lidded with a devilish glint in them.</p><p>Clover swallowed his food, leaning his face on a propped-up hand as he looked at that face. Calmly, he took in an inventory of himself.</p><p>He found Qrow Branwen attractive. Intelligence <em>and</em> looks, and those eyes? Check.</p><p>He needed to give Qrow back his student’s paper. Perfect reason to see him.</p><p>He had been told by James, by <em>everyone, </em>to go explore Vale. It was high time he followed their advice.</p><p>Beacon University occupied a substantial part of Vale’s grounds, extending well out of the town centre and northerly towards the sprawling forests of Forever Fall. Based on his knowledge (and a quick skimming of the tourist locations he had never bothered to care about beforehand) there were multiple museums, gardens, sports arenas, and theatres on campus grounds. It was veritably a city within a city. And now, Clover had all the reason in the world to go there and win over the stranger- Qrow. <em>What an odd name. </em>It didn’t matter, though- Clover was <em>made </em>to win people over. That was his job.</p><p>He stretched, loosened up his shoulders, and began his work. It was the first time in a long, long time that he was curious about his client, and he couldn’t wait to learn more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fifth Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Clover's a confused pumpkin, as am I.</p><p>Let me know your thoughts on this thus far!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Fifth Meeting</strong>
</p><p>The student’s paper remained in its protective cover, set out lovingly on his kitchen table until the next morning. Then, as Clover packed up his work bag for the day, he slipped the paper in with his computer. He had no idea if Qrow Branwen would be on transit that morning, but carrying the paper with him felt like a good luck charm. Maybe the paper would lead him to the Beacon professor.</p><p><em>He probably needs it back, </em>Clover thought idly, a spring in his step as he set forth on his daily trek, ready to reach the subway for the 7:30AM train. <em>If I am able to hand it off, it’ll probably save him some hassle with the student if they come looking for it. </em></p><p>It definitely wasn’t because he wanted to see Qrow again. Not at all.</p><p>So, Clover kept his eyes focused on the door of his carriage, waiting for that loping gait to enter the carriage of the subway. As he did, he found himself not bothering to reach for his headphones for once. The rain had given up early that morning, so he could see everyone clearly today; the day before had been nothing but a blur of raincoats and rustling umbrellas dripping water over already-filthy floors.</p><p>Oddly enough, Clover found that the crowd filling the train that day was interesting to watch. Bodies drifted in and out as usual, all yawning and catching short naps on the jostling train. A few noses were buried in books, while others focused on listening to something quietly, ignoring the world around them; the few who nursed cups of coffee in thermoses and to-go cups only focused on how best to not spill their drink onto those around them. Still, Clover enjoyed watching them, as mundane as it all was.</p><p>Perhaps it was because Clover was looking for something in particular today; perhaps it was due to the fact that he knew what he had to do when he found what he was looking for.</p><p>Either way, his search proved fruitless. Qrow Branwen didn’t enter the train that morning.</p><p>It would’ve been a lie to say that Clover wasn’t disappointed by that fact. Upon entering the office, his mood soured further as he found no receptionist awaiting him, no coffee in the pot, no portfolios on his desk. Harriet was cussing and pitching a fit at Vine already from across a cubicle divider, and Elm looked near to losing her temper from listening to the one-sided argument.</p><p>Still, this was his job. He needed to sort it out. So, he did, resolving each situation as efficiently as he could until the tensions had eased and he could retreat to the lounge, pouring himself the coffee he himself had set to brew.</p><p>He grimaced upon first sip. It was bitter.</p><p>Although he wasn’t the greatest fan, Clover’s coffee was filled with cream and sugar before he finally entered his office to begin the workday. He had removed the protective cover with the student’s paper inside and placed it on his desk alongside his laptop. Reading the paper was impossible with the amount of commentary crammed clumsily onto the page, red flooding the margins; still, Clover enjoyed trying to make out the original text as he drank his too-weak-too-bitter-too-sweet coffee.</p><p>Oddly enough, his phone began to ring. He picked up the call without a second thought; it was Tuesday, after all. Who would it be, James? Perhaps Marrow telling him why he wasn’t in the office yet?</p><p>Instead, it was his mother. He frowned, glancing at the screen- the woman had texted him earlier, but he’d been so caught up in the mess which was the office and his lacking adventure on the subway that he’d missed the message. The usual cyclical conversation repeated, Clover’s replies forming automatically after months and months of the same routine. As he spoke, though, his mind raced; normally the calls were always on Wednesdays. Had something changed?</p><p>Then, he heard it- a young, brash female voice in the background, echoing authoritatively through the phone. “Are you sure you won’t come, Clover?” his mother said like clockwork.</p><p><em>Not with Robyn there. </em>He didn’t need to see his half-sister. Nope. “I’m at work, mom. Now, if that’s all.”</p><p>“Your sister misses you too. She just came home, you know-”</p><p>His smile faltered for a moment. “Okay. I’ve got to go.” Before she could continue, he hung up the phone, letting out a long, weary exhale, dispelling the tension in his body.</p><p>Why was Robyn back in Atlas? She had made such a big deal of moving out and never coming back only a few years earlier. Annoyance rose in his chest, and he scowled, tucking his phone away so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. There was work to be done.</p><p>At least, he wished he could focus upon it. His meeting with clients that morning went well, and his check-ins on current projects were all fine. They were on track; there was nothing to worry about.</p><p>And yet, as they wrapped up their next project proposal meeting that afternoon, Vine still folded his hands primly in his lap and murmured, “Clover, you seem distracted. Is something on your mind?”</p><p>Clover maintained his neutral expression, silently cursing himself for allowing his attention to wander.</p><p>Still not over the morning’s argument with Vine, Harriet glowered at him from her seat across the conference table. “I hate to say it, but yeah, you are.”</p><p>Clover shook his head, smiling as he closed down the presentation. Marrow, who had arrived almost an hour late due to a family emergency, flicked on the lights as Clover said, “It’s just been a busy week. I appreciate the concern.”</p><p>Elm grinned at him, cheerily saying, “Maybe you should go on a vacation! You haven’t taken one since last year, right?”</p><p>It was true. Clover had relished in that break from work, taking two weeks to sleep in, work out, and relax, enjoying the comfort of his tiny apartment rather than having to endure the rest of Vale. It had been a good way to reset after the jarring culture shock which had been coming to the city.</p><p>Rather than replying, Clover simply laughed politely as Harriet grumbled, “Yeah, you’re worse than all of us about taking breaks.” The rest of the team chuckled and finally began to filter out of the small conference room, leaving Clover a moment alone to think.</p><p>They were absolutely right; he had been distracted throughout the meeting. Every time his attention drifted from the subject at hand, he would always inevitably find himself pensively stuck on the phone call. On Robyn. Why in the world was she back in Atlas? It just didn’t make sense.</p><p>And then, there was Qrow Branwen, and the paper Clover needed to give back. He wanted to see the man again- wanted to hear that voice. See those eyes. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how odd it would seem if Clover visited him out of the blue. Wouldn’t it be obvious that Clover had researched him if Clover just showed up at Beacon?</p><p>Still, with that final meeting over and the workday drawing to a close, Clover knew what he had to do. He couldn’t do anything about the situation in Atlas, but he certainly could return the paper. At the very least, he could find an administrative building and drop it off there. He didn’t need to return it face-to-face; frankly, he had no idea how he’d even broach the topic. So, he could hand it off to a secretary or something. And then, his distractions could be quelled, his commutes would be calmer, and Qrow Branwen would just return to being another nameless face dozing off or marking or nursing coffee upon the subway every once in a while.</p><p>Clover frowned. That thought made him feel… unexpectedly lonely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sixth Try</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go!!! Let me know what you think ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Sixth Try</strong>
</p><p>Nameless faces were all Clover saw on his way home, much to his chagrin. As University Station came and went, all he could was sigh, lamenting the paper still sitting within his bag. He was so ready to go to Beacon and try his luck finding the stranger- or, at the very least, finding his department building and giving it to a secretary. However, a call from his landlord about a burst pipe necessitated an immediate return home, so his errand had to wait another day, simply adding to his never-ending pile of things to take care of before he lost his mind.</p><p>The burst pipe was nothing more than a minor annoyance thankfully. It did mean that he wouldn’t have hot water for a few days. Clover didn’t mind- he’d dealt with worse conditions in his first apartment in Vale, so he could put up with it for just a few days.</p><p>On Wednesday, Qrow was nowhere to be seen on his morning commute. Thankfully, Clover’s lunch hour was unusually long that day after a client cancelled a meeting, giving him the perfect window to set forth. So, after reminding Marrow what he needed to do before he returned, Clover headed out to the subway.</p><p>He had never actually stepped foot onto the platform at University Station. To his surprise, it was far less decrepit than the other stations along the main line: fresh coats of paint covered up any graffiti that may have marred the adverts around the platform; beautiful, colourful murals lined the walls as he rode up the escalator to the ground floor; tiny, cozy coffee shops and corner stores welcomed customers within the entrance of the station itself.</p><p>Clover frowned, unease settling into his gut. Whether it was the City of Vale who made University Station so clean and well-cared for, or whether it was Beacon University itself, he didn’t know. Either way, the clear difference between this clearly-affluent area and the cesspool of filth that made up the rest of the Vale Transport System left a sour taste in his mouth.</p><p>As he emerged from the underground station, his theories leaned more heavily on it being Beacon University itself that took the liberties to maintain their grounds so immaculately. Everywhere he looked, the campus grounds were covered in greenery, with perfectly landscaped gardens and shrubs lining every walkway. A large map greeted him on a giant tourist’s board right past the subway entrance, giving him a sense of just how sprawling the campus truly was; each of the famous landmarks on campus were highlighted on the map, with clear directions to go to each one.</p><p><em>This whole thing is a money sink, huh? They probably have very inviting welcome packages for students, if all the glamour shots show </em>this <em>in the advertisements for the school. </em>He wouldn’t know, having been trapped in Atlas’ prestigious university on a full-ride scholarship; the thought of exploring other schooling opportunities had never been an option.</p><p>Clover would’ve almost been impressed by the guts of it all if he hadn’t been so disgusted by the clear disparity between Vale and Beacon.</p><p>His eyes traced the map, finally locating a small building tucked into the northwestern side of campus. <em>SOCI. </em>A long legend of acronyms tucked on one side of the large map explained that it was indeed the Department of Sociology’s building, so after figuring out his route, he began his journey.</p><p>Along the way, classes seemed to end their session. Students of all shapes and sizes spilled forth from the buildings, half of them running across campus in sheer desperation to make it to their next class, dodging the other half of the student body who leisurely chatted with their peers as they walked along scenic sidewalks. Clover bit back a smile as a young man rushing past on a child’s too-small scooter frantically tried to avoid a car trundling along the road. It was absolute chaos, so unlike the strict routines he had maintained in Atlas. And yet, he sort of found it refreshing. Just a bit.</p><p>He also noted with amusement that he, dressed in his neatly-pressed dress shirt, pea coat, fitted slacks and dress shoes with bag in hand, seemed exactly like the professors clearly moving between classes. It was an odd feeling, realizing that he fit in without even meaning to. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, though.</p><p>Finally, he found a large sign marking his destination. <em>Department of Sociology. Alright. </em></p><p>Thankfully, it didn’t seem like an incredibly busy building- the small offices lining the wall gave no indication of hosting any hidden lecture halls within, which was probably why. Clover peered around, trying to find any form of directory. However, all he could see was the small front desk, a bored woman watching him with a glint in her eye and a small, slightly coy smile on her face.</p><p>If he didn’t have to see Qrow, it was probably easier. It wasn’t ideal for Clover, however, who still wanted to hear that voice again.</p><p>Still, there was not much choice, and he wasn’t interested in wandering aimlessly through narrow hallways until he could potentially find the correct office. So, he walked up to the woman and smiled, pulling out the paper from his bag. “Hello,” he murmured, keeping his voice neutral and his smile alluring, just as he always did with his clients. “I was wondering if a Dr. Qrow Branwen worked here?”</p><p>“Why yes!” the woman responded delightedly, leaning forward on her elbows. Clover had to bite back his smirk as she obviously shifted to show more of her cleavage, eyeing him invitingly. “Would you like me to take you to his office?”</p><p><em>Yes, please- </em>“I’ve just come to drop something off,” he lied smoothly, handing over the paper, protective case and all. “I found this on the train the other day. I thought it would probably be best for the student to get their paper back.”</p><p>The woman glanced over it, surprise filling her face. “You… really came all this way to drop off a paper?”</p><p>“I saw him drop it on the train after marking it,” he chuckled. “No point wasting his work, and I’ve been due a visit out to Beacon anyways. It’s no worry.”</p><p>Impressed, she turned to put the paper into one of the mailbox cubbies lining the back of the small front office- presumably for the faculty. “I’ll be sure to let Dr. Branwen know-“</p><p>“You called?” a low, husky voice called as the front door of the building chimed open, and Clover’s breath stilled in his lungs, his whole body freezing as red eyes entered his vision once.</p><p>
  <em>Well, hello Dr. Branwen.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seventh Hello</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s been a rough week, y’all. I hope it’s been better for y’all! Don’t forget, if you need someone to talk to during social distancing times, feel free to reach out on Discord – I’m always happy to chat!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Seventh Hello</strong>
</p><p>Qrow Branwen’s office was just down the hall on the second floor. Clover awkwardly looked around, silently wondering how he had gotten himself into this situation. The whole plan had been to just give the paper back and be done with it; and yet, here he was, following the lanky professor down narrow, beige-coloured corridors, their footsteps echoing on smooth tile.</p><p>Finally, they reached Qrow’s office. Situated in front of it was a small drop-box, the slit just wide enough to slip in papers. A few course codes were scrawled messily in black marker on top of the box, which was truly just a few papers away from overflowing. The clutter matched the slight hunch of the man’s shoulders, the scruffy, hastily brushed-back hair, the faint crinkles on his same grey blazer which Clover had seen on the train.</p><p>Strangely enough, Clover didn’t find any of these things unattractive.</p><p>Qrow opened up the door and flung it open haphazardly, wincing as it crashed into something bulky behind the door. “Shit.” Still, he gestured for the man to follow him, so Clover quietly obeyed.</p><p>The office within was a little chaotic, but much less than Clover would have expected. <em>Everything he needs to be marking and filing is probably in that submission box, huh? </em>he thought wryly, smiling despite himself as he glanced around.</p><p>Qrow, who had been holding a small briefcase, dumped his bag carelessly onto a small stool behind his desk, then leaned against his table with folded arms. “So, how’d you manage to find the kid’s paper again?” he asked, looking at the paper he had thrown onto his desk in amusement.</p><p>Clover sighed. “Honestly? We took the same train when you were marking it. I saw you drop it, so I thought I should give it back.”</p><p>Qrow whistled, clearly impressed by the dedication. “You could’ve just given it to the front office, buddy.” When Clover raised a brow at him- because yes, Clover had been <em>trying </em>to do that- to his surprise, Qrow flushed slightly, tucking the student’s paper away in a similar stack of red-scratched pages on his desk. “Okay, fair enough.”</p><p>Clover gulped. Should he ask? <em>No harm, I suppose. </em>“To be honest,” he began carefully, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, “I was curious about the contents of the paper, so I looked up your class and your research.” His mind calmed, and he began sliding into his sales pitch- the client-style portfolio he had created out of habit on Dr. Qrow Branwen’s research was fresh in his mind, having glanced it over before heading out. “It actually got me a little curious. Dr. Branwen-“</p><p>“Call me Qrow,” the man said airily, a wicked grin on his face. “You’re not my student. Unless you are, and I’m missing <em>all </em>your work, which means you are <em>screwed, </em>kid.”</p><p>Clover snorted, but instantly, he felt more at ease. “<em>Qrow. </em>Mind if I ask a few questions?”</p><p>Pleasantly enough, that seemed to work. Qrow’s face split into a sincere, almost goofy grin. “You don’t want to ask about a professor’s research unless you’ve got a lot of time to spare…” He paused, then asked, “I didn’t catch your name, buddy.”</p><p>“Clover Ebi.” Clover cursed himself silently for how his voice trembled slightly. This wasn’t how he’d expected his drop-off to go, but he was here now. <em>Keep the pitch going. Let’s go.</em></p><p>Those crimson eyes that had lingered in his mind creased into thin lines, crow’s feet wrinkling as Qrow’s face split into a genuine smile. “Clover? What are you, a lucky charm?”</p><p>Clover froze. “Um… what?”</p><p>Qrow’s eyes softened, and he hid his chuckle behind a hand covered in numerous steel rings and leather bracelets- so unlike any professor Clover had ever seen before. “Alright, Clover.” Qrow gestured towards the small coffee table tucked against the wall. “Let’s talk.”</p><p>Only two seats surrounded the table, but one was covered in a coat and a pile of textbooks, so Clover took the other seat, leaned back, and smiled, ready to absorb whatever he could. It was going to be a challenge, though. Now that Qrow wasn’t half-asleep or hungover, the man just oozed <em>life, </em>and it was absolutely entrancing.</p><p>And so, Qrow and Clover began to chat. Qrow told him about his classes, about his students, about the research he had done for his Ph.D. on the rise of crime in the continent of Anima in smaller, more isolated communities with the increase in banditry over the past century. The elder man continued to talk, happy to share his work in a way that only professors truly passionate about what they did could.</p><p>Clover was happy to listen. Oftentimes, he found himself a little bit lost, but after asking a few questions, he always found himself back on track, following along with the conversation. Sociology was something he had never studied in his undergraduate degree; psychology had been far more applicable with his work in business, so he had focused upon that. More than anything else, however, Clover found himself just content to sit down, leaning his chin upon his hand as he rested against the coffee table, watching Qrow animatedly discuss what he had done to collect data and just how annoying conducting research interviews were.</p><p>Suddenly, Qrow froze. “Enough about me, Mr. Good-luck-charm. What about you? What do you do?”</p><p>“I manage a software security firm,” Clover began, reaching into his coat. He had a small sheaf of business cards on him at all times- <em>Might as well use them</em>.</p><p>Qrow’s brow quirked upwards, but his smile was still amicable, curious. Clover swallowed thickly, making sure his expression was just as calm and composed as always despite the internal sirens going off, all of his alarms honing in on one question:</p><p>
  <em>Is he interested in me?</em>
</p><p>Clover was about speak when a knock came from the door. Instantly, Qrow’s expression soured. He walked over to the door in two long strides and flung it open, not reacting this time to the crashing sound (which had come from the door hitting an old, unplugged copy machine, Clover had found- why in the world such a giant, obsolete beast would be stored in a tiny university office was beyond him) as he looked at the face standing outside. “May I help you?” he growled.</p><p>Clover caught a peek of the person who had come to talk to Qrow. It was just a student- soft-spoken, long, straight brown hair, a small, dainty nose and mouth set underneath large brown eyes. She held out a paper for him to look at, and Qrow sighed, turning back to Clover. “Just amuse yourself for a sec,” he said, stepping out of the office to speak to the student.</p><p>Clover immediately stood, glancing around the office. There was one thing he was looking for- one thing he desperately wanted to find. And within seconds, he found it.</p><p>Perched upon Qrow’s desk, hidden from immediate sight due to the large monitor situated on his desk, was a photograph of four people- one man and two women next to a younger, darker-haired Qrow. They were paired off, a woman with Qrow’s striking eyes and dark hair standing next to an easygoing blond, and a petite brunette smiling and leaning against Qrow’s arm.</p><p>Clover’s heart immediately sank. <em>Okay. He’s taken, I suppose. </em>He didn’t know how else to interpret the fondness of Qrow’s smile as he looked at the woman.</p><p>Sighing, Clover glanced over to the man still standing outside of the door talking to the shy student. He was moving his hands around animatedly as he described the structure of some assignment. Clover’s eyes honed in on his left hand- his multitude of rings- his ring finger-</p><p><em>Bare. </em>So he <em>wasn’t </em>married, at least.</p><p>It was almost disgusting, the quiet wave of relief that washed over Clover, relaxing every muscle in his body.</p><p>Finally, the student left, thanking Qrow profusely in the hallway before leaving. Qrow sighed, ruffling his hair and walking back into his office. “Sorry about that,” he groaned. “Technically it’s my office hours, but no one ever comes, so… oops?”</p><p>Clover stood, shaking his head. “It’s alright. I should be getting back to the office, anyways.” Handing over his business card, he added, “If you’re alright with it, I’d like to continue this conversation another time.” When Qrow didn’t immediately refuse, Clover allowed his eyelids to hang heavy, smile quirking up at the corners coyly. “Perhaps over drinks? If that’s alright with you?”</p><p>Qrow grinned wolfishly. “I knew I liked you, lucky charm. C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I’ve got class soon anyways.”</p><p>On the stairwell, however, the elder suddenly lost his balance, tripping over the slippery laminate floors. On instinct, Clover’s arm shot out and grabbed Qrow, pulling the man up and straightening him out on the landing between floors. To Clover’s surprise, Qrow pouted rather than trying to brush it off, muttering almost mournfully, “Lost a paper, had to have someone else bring it back, some kid actually showed up to my office hours for something dumb, could’ve broken a tooth just there- this just ain’t my day, huh?”</p><p>Clover fought down his uncertainty and fear, deciding to go all in. Winking at the elder, he smoothly walked past him, heading down to the bottom floor as serenely as he could. “What are you talking about?” he called, turning back to look up at Qrow once he reached the first floor landing. “You <em>are </em>lucky. You met me after all, right?”</p><p>And to his ultimate satisfaction, at that statement, a surprised flush spread across Qrow’s cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.</p><p>Clover grinned, showing his teeth, green eyes locked on the crimson which had been haunting him the past week. “See you later, <em>Doctor.”</em></p><p>And with that, Clover left Beacon’s Department of Sociology and headed back to AST, feeling giddy and lightheaded in ways he’d never felt before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Eighth Listen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>things are about to get spicy in income inequality discourse oooo</p><p>but in all seriousness, leave a comment if you're reading along! I'd love to read your comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eighth Listen</strong>
</p><p>Clover’s feet carried him back across Beacon University’s beautiful campus, back past all of the coffee shops and convenience stores nearing the mouth of the subway, back down into the clean and cozy University Station platform, all in a haze. The words which had left his mouth still didn’t seem real. Had he actually had the gall to ask out the stranger?</p><p><em>Not ‘the stranger’- he said to call him Qrow. </em>He had to press his lips together tightly, keeping his gaze focused on clean tile slabs below him, in order to avoid smiling goofily.</p><p>Only when he was back on the train and heading towards the office did he realize he had forgotten to get Qrow’s number.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>As Clover re-entered his office, waving at Marrow in passing and making a beeline for the lounge to grab another cup of coffee to substitute the lunch he unfortunately would have no time to eat, he had to forcefully get his mind to face the facts. <em>I gave him my card. He’ll call, right?</em></p><p>After a moment, he let out an audible groan of frustration, drawing a strange look from Harriet who was refilling her water bottle in the sink beside the coffee machine. He had forgotten to write his cellphone number onto the card. What the hell was Qrow supposed to do with his office number (which would go automatically to Marrow since his extension wasn’t included on the card)? Request a consultation? Ask about price estimates?</p><p>He wanted to bang his head on a wall. What had he been thinking?</p><p>All he could do was let out a tiny, barely-audible sigh, straighten his shoulders, and plaster on his usual smile to power through the day. <em>Maybe I’ll see him on the way home, </em>he thought distantly. It was a fool’s errand, but the thought kept him going. He had been so caught up with the fact that he was actually talking with the older man, and that Qrow had been <em>smiling </em>and <em>enjoying his company </em>and, if Clover squinted hard enough, <em>flirted back-</em></p><p>He couldn’t let himself dream. He had made that mistake before.</p><p>It didn’t stop him from quietly staring at his office phone throughout his meetings that day- just in case Marrow patched someone through to him. Just in case.</p><p>The thought was fruitless. He didn’t see Qrow that evening on the way home, nor the next morning. Over lunch, when Clover had a spare moment to read, he found himself wandering through the Department of Sociology’s website, clicking on whatever links related to Qrow struck his fancy. The man had been involved in a ton of research- despite touting a fairly young age, the man was indeed quite prolific in his research.</p><p>Clover paused, mouse hovering over the nth picture of Qrow presenting in a conference hall. <em>…why am I acting like such a puppy?</em></p><p>It was a little humiliating. He had never been like this before, but for Qrow, he seemed to be going the extra mile to embarrass himself.</p><p>The man’s teaching reviews were stellar, although half of the comments focused more on his handsome looks and sultry voice that the actual content. One comment did pique Clover’s interest; a student mentioned a podcast that Qrow did with the school occasionally. Out of curiosity, Clover searched it up, finding and downloading an episode before he could stop himself.</p><p>While Clover couldn’t say that he absorbed any actual content listening to that episode, that afternoon of poring over paperwork was probably the most calm and at ease he had ever been, listening to Qrow murmur about city policies or whatnot. He was so relaxed that upon seeing him at the end of the workday, even Vine asked what he had done to calm himself down.</p><p>Clover listened to the episode again on the way home. It actually was quite informative. There was something about Qrow’s voice talking into his ear as he rode the empty train home, staring out of the window into the cold and drizzle, that just felt <em>right. </em></p><p>So, that night, Clover saved the rest of the episodes Qrow had hosted. Listening to Qrow talk about income inequality was a nice change from the vague motivational drivel James and the others had given him over and over again, so Friday morning, Qrow’s voice was speaking gently into his headphones, allowing Clover to center himself before another long workday to end the week.</p><p>Listening to Qrow’s podcast was likely why he didn’t register his name around the fifth station on his route. After a few moments, however, he heard his name again, this time accompanied by a light nudge to his knee. Clover jumped up in his seat slightly, pulling his headphones out and glaring up at the other passengers; only to find Qrow Branwen in the flesh leaning over him, one hand tucked into his pocket and the other gripping onto the olive-green handrail above Clover’s seat. “Hey, you,” Qrow said with a smile.</p><p>Clover froze for a moment, mind short-circuiting before finally snapping back to life. He quickly closed the podcast, hiding the screen of his phone. With a small grin, Clover replied, “Hey to you, too, professor.”</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I was just thinking about calling you today.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” His voice remained calm despite the immediate rise in his heartrate. It felt a little surreal to hear Qrow’s real voice speaking after having been listening to his feature on a university podcast just seconds before.</p><p>Qrow nodded, glancing out the window at the grim, grey day. “It’s kinda gross outside today, it’s Friday, and I never thanked you for bringing back the kid’s work. I’ll take you for a drink.”</p><p>Clover forced his giddiness back into his heart, asking airily, “Oh yeah? Whereabouts were you thinking?”</p><p>“I know a few places that could be good. You free around 5?” When Clover nodded, Qrow reached down and plucked Clover’s phone out of his hand. “Here’s my number, kid. I’ll text you when I’m done with my students.”</p><p>Clover was going to faint, swallowing thickly as he took back his phone, eyes locked on Qrow’s mouth as he spoke.</p><p>Unfortunately, University Station was coming up, and the older man was ready to leave. “I’ll see you later. Be ready, kid,” Qrow teased. “I finished marking everything this week, so we’re gonna have a good time tonight. My treat.”</p><p>And as the train slowed to a halt, the other passengers shifting to make room for others moving in and out of the carriage, Qrow licked his bottom lip, a glint of silver flashing out of nowhere as he looked at the door before waving goodbye to Clover. “See you later, lucky charm.” And he headed out, leaving a space that was quickly filled by another passenger, leaving Clover in an absolute fog.</p><p>As he had spoken, Qrow’s tongue had slipped past his lips. This professor with his doctorate and multiple research grants and awards and podcasts and published papers- this creature named Qrow Branwen had a <em>tongue piercing. </em></p><p>Clover had no idea what he had gotten into, and he didn’t regret a thing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Ninth Capture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my outline for this fic (for anyone who doesn’t read my RWBY ‘Laws of Attraction-verse series’, 1. If you like Team JNPR or wanna see a fleshed-out canon rewrite, go check it out! And 2. As I’ve shown readers in that series, I outline and draft my stories in very, very stupid ways) I had these two lines making up most of the outline for last chapter:</p><p>
  <em>Realizes back on the train that he didn’t get qrow’s contact and he fucking hates himself cuz his office number doesn’t count like fuck fuck fuck<br/>Clover’s like *gay panic*</em>
</p><p>…So that’s the quality of content I’m producing I suppose</p><p>Let me know what you think :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Ninth Capture</strong>
</p><p>A hint of silver and a mischievous smile were all Clover could see as he walked into work, moving through his routine in a daze. He faintly heard Marrow’s greeting, barely noticed Vine’s placid small talk, and didn’t even react when Elm clapped him on the shoulder announcing that she’d figured out the bug she’d been working to solve for days. Instead of engaging with them (even as minimally as usual) his eyes kept drifting to any and every clock he could find, focusing on the minutes ticking by.</p><p>5PM, and he would finally get to spend some proper time with Qrow.</p><p>A part of him felt ashamed that he was so blatantly excited to go for drinks with the professor. After all, Clover was a grown man- he’d gone on plenty of dates throughout his time in university and after in the workforce.</p><p>A grimace twisted his mouth unknowingly. All of that had been back in Atlas. Life was different now- he hadn’t gone out for dinner with someone other than a client or his coworkers since he had moved to Vale, almost a year and a half earlier.</p><p><em>Except for that one date with the landlord’s daughter. God, what a mess that had been. </em>He shuddered just thinking about it.</p><p>So perhaps he could forgive himself for feeling giddy at the prospect of going out to dinner with someone of his own volition, rather than out of obligation. It certainly helped that hearing Qrow’s voice was quickly becoming one of Clover’s favourite sounds in the world- the smoky, low tone of his words coming through Clover’s headphones had instantly put him at ease throughout his morning commute. Getting to hear that voice over dinner was going to be wonderful.</p><p>His hand trembled for a moment as he poured his coffee, just barely avoiding spilling it onto the counter. He cleared his throat and straightened up, banishing the image of a silver ball sitting on a pink tongue. He still couldn’t believe the man had a tongue piercing, of all things.</p><p>He hated how much he liked that knowledge- how much he wanted to see that piercing clearly.</p><p>It was Harriet who finally called him out for being so distracted that day. As a small debrief came to an end, she leaned on the table and scrutinized his glazed-over eyes curiously. “What’s going on, chief? Something good happen?”</p><p>He had been opening up his computer to check a message, pausing to ponder her question; it took every speck of willpower in him to not immediately put on a defense. Instead, he let out a little sigh, chastising himself mentally. Had he really been so transparent? “Nothing in particular,” he replied evenly, keeping his smile classy and professional. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Because you’re sighing like a lovesick puppy,” Elm snickered.</p><p>Harriet blew a raspberry at the tall woman, waving her hand dismissively. “Someone managed to worm their way into Clover’s cold heart? Yeah, I doubt it,” she laughed, packing up her papers and heading back to her cubicle.</p><p>Marrow passed by behind Clover to turn off the smartboard presentation. As he walked by him, Marrow paused, suddenly tapping Clover on the shoulder and pointed to the man’s computer screen. “Oh, are you listening to BU’s social sciences podcasts?” he cheered. “My cousin showed me those! They’re really good.”</p><p>A part of him wished that he had minimized the screen, but a part of him was curious. Clover raised a brow, spinning in his office chair to look at Marrow properly. “You listen to it?” he asked, mildly surprised. Marrow seemed much more likely to listen to movie or video game-related things. Sociology hardly seemed to be his main area of interest.</p><p>Marrow grinned, nodding happily. “Yeah. My cousin’s in the Department of Social Justice and Equity there. Blake’s <em>super </em>into it.” He leaned over Clover’s shoulder, his smile growing as he pointed to the names of the hosts. “Apparently Dr. Branwen’s the best, a real piece of work, although her supervisor for her honour’s thesis- Dr. Oobleck,” and he pointed to another episode, hosted by a man whose hair looked perpetually fried, “- is kind of extra.”</p><p>“Really? Dr. Branwen’s a good prof?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Marrow took a seat on the edge of the conference table, pulling out his phone and scrolling through some messages. “She sent me a video of his class once. He’s her favourite prof.” Finally, Marrow seemed to find it, showing Clover the small screen. Clover narrowed his eyes as Marrow clicked the <em>play </em>button, then proceeded to watch in wide-eyed amazement at what unfolded onscreen.</p><p>After the video began to loop around again, Clover let out a long sigh. “Well. That’s… certainly one way to do it.” <em>What the hell did I just watch?</em></p><p>Okay, Clover understood what he’d seen; a young man, presumably a student, had called out a racist slur in class. While the video had been shaky, the image often blocked by pale fingers with long, artificial black nails, the audio had been fairly clear. Qrow’s response to the comment had apparently been to move up the stairs in the large, sloping lecture hall he had probably been teaching in, a lecture slide still projected onto the giant screen at the front of the room. As he ascended the stairs, hands tucked casually into his pockets and air so completely unfazed that it was unsettling, Qrow began systemically ripping into the student until the young man- far too tall and muscular to fit comfortably in small lecture seats- was cowering where he sat, his glassy eyes visibly showing his humiliation and fear even from across the hall. Qrow’s voice never raised, just sinking quieter and quieter until even his clip mic was having trouble picking up his words.</p><p>Then, at the last second, he had roared in the student’s face, microphone screeching in protest as he kicked him out of the class. “And don’t come back unless you’ve done research and can prove to me you’re able to keep that <em>garbage </em>out of my classes!” he growled, sending the giant student scurrying away.</p><p>The students cheered, and then, the video began to loop again.</p><p>Marrow’s eyes shone. “Isn’t it <em>amazing?</em> I wish I saw stuff that intense when I was in college.” He pouted, slumping over slightly. “The only cool thing I ever saw in class was when someone proposed to their long-time girlfriend and she said no. <em>That </em>was pretty wild.”</p><p>Clover winced on instinct at the thought of such a public rejection; but more than that, he just sat stunned. He never had imagined that Qrow could even possibly raise his voice like that- then again, he couldn’t blame Qrow for standing up to disruptive, hateful commentary like that. It was honestly for the best to show no tolerance for that behaviour. <em>Well. We know he’s a good person, at least.</em></p><p>Still, that video lingered in his mind all day. Who <em>was </em>Qrow? What did he believe in? Clearly he was willing to defend his platform, but the sheer intensity of his approach was so vastly different that to the weary, flirtatious voice Clover had always heard; it was a polar opposite to the lovely, soothing tone he wore during the podcast.</p><p>Well. 5PM would come around soon enough. Clover would just have to wait and see.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Tenth Touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>guess! who! misses! going! on! dates!</p><p>Leave a comment if you're reading along! (or if you too need a himbo in your life because oof I certainly do)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Tenth Touch</strong>
</p><p>When the end of the workday finally arrived, Clover’s heart was in his mouth. He probably looked sterner than ever to his coworkers; Marrow curled in on himself slightly as Clover laid out what he needed for the next week before walking out the door. He didn’t mean to speak so gruffly; it was the best Clover could do to hide the sheer, giddy excitement rushing through his veins, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, fingers wrapped around his cellphone.</p><p>Nearly an hour earlier, Qrow had sent him a text. <em>I’ll come by your office at 5. </em>Clover had wanted to simultaneously cheer and cry- it truly had been too long since he’d been on a date.</p><p>So, after silently agonizing over his appearance for a good 45 minutes in the comfort of his office, Clover finally decided to brave the elements and meet Qrow.</p><p>It didn’t take long to find the man. He was leaning against the brick wall of a small deli across from the office complex housing AST, typing away casually on his phone. Clover hadn’t taken notice of what Qrow had been wearing that morning, but as he drew closer, Clover could appreciate his well-fitted black blazer and slightly-unbuttoned dress shirt, sharp collarbones peeking up over a rumpled collar. His many rings glinted in the light. The man drew curious, eager eyes as he waited; even as Clover crossed the street, he could see the bright, hungry eyes glancing at Qrow as passersby took notice of the handsome professor.</p><p>Qrow noticed none of them, only lifting his gaze and straightening up when Clover stopped in front of him. “Hey there,” he said, flashing a wide grin of perfectly-straight teeth. “How was work?”</p><p>“Not too bad,” Clover replied. Even just standing there, Qrow’s hair began to flop into his eyes, and Clover’s fingers itched to settle it, to push it back- to run his fingers through Qrow’s hair while he looked at piercing red staring back. He swallowed down the urge, instead gripping onto his phone tighter in his pocket. “And yourself?”</p><p>The duo began to walk slowly down the street. Clover smiled, realizing just how easily their strides matched with one another, their gaits the same as Qrow gestured in the vague direction of their destination. Qrow chuckled wryly, shaking his head. “You’d think I’m teaching toddlers with the way some students act.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” They reached the next intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to change for pedestrians. “How so?”</p><p>“Y’know, always moaning about not getting the-“ and he yelped as he slipped against the slick pavement. Clover shot out a hand and caught his shoulders, setting Qrow upright before letting go reluctantly.</p><p>Qrow frowned, narrowing his eyes at Clover before resuming his path. “Can you <em>stop </em>seeing me trip over myself?” he muttered, only half-joking.</p><p>“Maybe you should be more careful,” Clover teased. He was only thankful that Qrow hadn’t noticed the quickening of his breath, the racing of his pulse, when he’d kept Qrow on his feet.</p><p>“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” Qrow muttered.</p><p>A wave of relief washed over Clover. <em>He thinks I’m handsome?</em></p><p>Clover had a chance after all.</p><p>Biting back his smile, he said as loftily as he could, “You shouldn’t talk to yourself, y’know. People will get worried.”</p><p>The exasperated groan Qrow let out was more than enough to <em>hear </em>the eye-roll from the elder. Clover didn’t see it, too busy looking at his feet and trying not to laugh; trying to maintain some semblance of his normal, cool demeanor.</p><p>Qrow jabbed an elbow lightly into his side. “Oh, that’s how we’re playing it I see,” he teased, looking up into Clover’s face.</p><p>Clover paused on the sidewalk, taking a moment to just <em>look </em>at Qrow. The elder looked genuinely happy to be there. Finally, he let his smile grow, his tense muscles relaxing. “Why not play if you’ve got a good partner?”</p><p>Qrow snorted, the moment effectively ruined as he jabbed his thumb to the side. Clover didn’t mind; Qrow’s smile was even wider than before. “There’s our destination, lucky charm,” he said. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The locale in question ended up being a dingy little pub named Crow Bar tucked in between a larger eatery and a Mistralian sweet shop, almost hidden away in the shadows between the two. Clover followed Qrow in amazement; while he had certainly visited the other two establishments, he had somehow never even noticed this place existed.</p><p>Very quickly, Clover understood why Qrow liked Crow Bar. It was a little rundown, a little too old to be completely sanitary. Knickknacks and baubles lined every shelf and hung from the ceiling, with signed posters and photographs posted on every wall. The wooden tables were creaky and so old they were losing their varnish, and the music blasting on the tinny speakers behind the bar was at least forty years old, and not the <em>good </em>kind of classics.</p><p>Yet, there was something charming about the place. The drinks were cheap- and, as promised, they were on Qrow- and happy hour chicken wings were even cheaper by the pound. There was a certain camaraderie in the air as Qrow walked in confidently, greeting everyone and waving to the bartender, winking and flirting with the waitress in the most sexual, yet platonic way, as if it were something the two of them simply did without every intending to act upon their words. Clover took it all in with quiet wonder, feeling simultaneously out of place and right at home as Qrow welcomed him into the corner booth, tucked out of view from the front door.</p><p>“I come here every few weeks,” Qrow explained. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us the best deals.”</p><p>“Wow, a man who can coupon. My favourite,” Clover replied, deadpan.</p><p>Thankfully, Qrow seemed to have a similar sense of humour, tossing a napkin at Clover while they waited for their food. “Shut it, punk.”</p><p>But as the drinks kept coming and customers filled up the greasy dive until the whole place was raucous and vibrant and <em>alive, </em>Clover let his feet hook onto Qrow’s under the table separating them, and Qrow didn’t pull away. Eventually, it was so loud that the two men had to lean across the table until they were mere inches apart so that they could hear each other speak; and speak, they did, with the pair so close that with every word, Clover could see the ball of silver shining on Qrow’s tongue.</p><p><em>God, </em>how he wanted to ask about that. He didn’t, though; that could come another day.</p><p>Clover told him about his workplace, about his coworkers, about his apartment. Qrow cackled when he explained how his landlord was intent on setting him up with her granddaughter, and how his coworkers wanted to throttle each other half the time. Qrow, in return, gossiped about some of his more entertaining students and his ridiculous peers, and how his faculty’s attempts at inter-department staff bonding were going to be the end of him.</p><p>None of it was very deep. None of it made Clover weak; none of it touched the core of his soul and forced him to lay his soul out bare for Qrow to see him in all his flaws. But there was a certain closeness between them, the two men bumping shoulders as they walked back, tipsy, to the uncannily-empty train station in the dead of night. There was a softness in Qrow’s eyes as he whispered, “Hey, Mr. Good-luck-charm, we should do this again.” There was a light in those crimson eyes- a hopefulness that Clover hadn’t dared to even let himself dream.</p><p>As the subway rolled into the fifth station on Clover’s usual route, and Qrow began gathering himself up to head home, Clover decided to take the final leap of faith. Before the train could still and the doors could open, Clover reached out for Qrow’s face, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a quick kiss. It was clumsy, front teeth knocking as he drunkenly misjudged the distance between them. Qrow pulled back and cursed, then the two men laughed.</p><p>They were alone on the carriage. So, without anyone else to see, he tried again, and Clover managed to press a quick kiss to Qrow’s lips. “I’d like that, you damn crow,” he croaked back.</p><p>Qrow laughed, silver glinting again behind those straight teeth, red eyes creasing happily. “I’ll see you Monday, Clover.” And with that, Qrow stepped off the train, the doors closed, and Clover sank back into his seat, his heart singing and face flushed from more than just alcohol.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Eleventh Notice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eleventh Notice</strong>
</p><p>The weekend was one of many victories. Clover woke up without a hangover the next morning for one, which was already an amazing start to the day, considering how his liver had given up on him years ago. He was able to actually get in a good workout session at the gym both days, feeling a lot calmer each time- whenever he worked out, he was able to push everything to the side and calmly analyze what was going on in his life. Granted, he didn’t have much to ponder lately days, other than the fact that Qrow was even better than he had imagined, and Qrow was as interested in him as he was in the professor.</p><p>At least, Clover assumed Qrow was still interested, if the texts popping into his inbox, filled with humorous but annoyed bitching the next morning as Qrow nursed his hangover, were anything to go by.</p><p>Even the hot water in the apartment ended up getting fixed without major delays. Maria, the tiny waif of a woman who ran the building, managed to catch him on the way back from the gym Sunday afternoon to tell him the good news.</p><p>Clover smiled politely, inching up the stairs as subtly as he could. “That’s great, Mrs. Calavera,” he said. “I’m very grateful.”</p><p>“Oh Clover,” the woman cooed, “it’s a victory for us all! I managed to get new glasses-“ and she tapped on thick-framed lenses that looked... exactly the same as her old pair, “-and I managed to get a bunch of <em>attractive</em> young men to come fix the boiler room. Ooh, a good weekend indeed!” She tittered, pleased.</p><p>Clover could not be more uncomfortable. At the ripe old age of eighty-two, Maria Calavera knew <em>exactly </em>how to make him feel like he needed to hide for his own safety. “That’s great to hear. Your glasses look wonderful.”</p><p>She pouted, pointing her old, rickety cane at him. “Young man, are you <em>sure </em>you don’t want to go on a date with my little-“</p><p>“Very sure, ma’am,” Clover replied smoothly. “I’m not interested in seeing anyone right now, so I wouldn’t want to lead her on.” He reached into his pocket, discretely silencing his phone. <em>If I fake a work call right now, will she be convinced? Can I escape?</em></p><p>Thankfully, she seemed to have had enough for the night. “Oh alright,” the elderly woman huffed, waving a hand dismissively at him. “I suppose that’s fair. But let me know! I’d like a handsome young grandson like you.”</p><p>He smiled, all customer-service friendly. “You’re too kind, Mrs. C. I’ll chat with you later then.”</p><p>Once he was back in his apartment, he was able to relax at last, pushing away the older woman’s words from his mind. She had been harping on him meeting her granddaughter since he had moved in. <em>That’s probably why she even gave me the keys to this place, huh? </em>he thought wryly.</p><p>After he had showered and made dinner, he was surprised to see a few messages awaiting him. He wasn’t big on texting- other than client calls and the weekly conversation with his mother, he usually had no need to use his phone in the first place, aside from listening to podcasts on his commute.</p><p>The first message was from Qrow. The man asked if he wanted to get coffee sometime that week. Clover’s heart swelled in his chest, beating like mad.</p><p>The second message soured his mood in an instant. The sender wasn’t saved on his phone, although he had memorized that number years earlier. There was no way to <em>not </em>know who the sender was; what they wanted from him, however, was a different story.</p><p>He frowned, opening the message tentatively. He could just delete it, pretend like it didn’t matter at all- move on with his life and act as if nothing had happened-</p><p>
  <em>But what if something’s going on with Mom?</em>
</p><p>He groaned in defeat, then opened the message.</p><p>As usual, he was greeted by a long diatribe. The writer didn’t announce who they were, didn’t begin the conversation with anything remotely amicable; instead, the message boiled down to just a few key points.</p><p>
  <em>Why aren’t you coming home for the reunion?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why are you being an ass to mom?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why won’t you just move on, it’s been years-</em>
</p><p>“Robyn, you never change, huh?” he muttered, more weary than upset. He had cut ties with her years ago; he’d changed his number when he moved to Sanus, too. Had his mother decided to give her his number, despite all his efforts to leave Atlas behind?</p><p>He didn’t need to respond to her message. They were fully-grown, individual, well-established adults now. There was nothing tying them together if he didn’t want there to be, aside from a mother whose well-wishes would never undo the damage she’d helped to cause.</p><p>So, rather than dwelling on Robyn’s text, he instead focused on replying to Qrow. He named a time and place for dinner one day instead of coffee. He had been saving up for sixteen months- he could easily afford a nice dinner for the older man. And, after a moment of hesitation, he openly referred to it as a ‘date’.</p><p>Qrow said yes.</p><p>With that planned out, Clover allowed himself to settle in for the evening. He had a few prospective clients that week whom he needed to research, and a few other things he had to wrap-up before the end of the quarter. James would be coming in for another check-in by the end of the week, and he needed to ensure all of their paperwork was in by then.</p><p>Absentmindedly, he also made a note to check in with Marrow. <em>I wonder if that family emergency worked out alright? </em>Clover had been so distracted by Qrow that he hadn’t delved further into it. It was probably best to speak to the young man come Monday morning.</p><p>Either way, the wrinkle in his mood left from his half-sister’s message smoothed out over the course of the evening. It was hard to stay upset when he was so focused on his work. The entire time, he listened the Qrow’s soothing voice on that podcast, relishing in the comparisons his memory conjured up between the calm, well-articulated professor shown to the world, and the rambunctious, silly, flirtatious creature with the beautiful smile he’d spent Friday evening with. Both were captivating.</p><p>And for once, Clover felt a glimmer of hope in his heart for more than just his simple future goals. Maybe there was something else he could look forward to on the horizon after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Twelfth Ride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm at a weird point in this story where I know how the last few chapters play out but I'm so hazy on what's happening to *get* there. Ugh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twelfth Ride</strong>
</p><p>How drastically one’s view could change in one week.</p><p>Monday rolled around, just as dreary and damp as the last. Passersby stumbled wearily down the road, huddled inside raincoats and underneath wide umbrellas. A sea of grey and black and drab, earthy tones muddied the road as everyone made their way to the subway station, ready to begin the workweek once again.</p><p>Unlike the rest of his fellow commuters, Clover was excited for his train ride. In fact, as the train rolled into the fifth station on his commute, he grinned, picking up his bag and readying to stand up, just in case he’d greet another hungover or exhausted Qrow.</p><p>Hungover, no, but exhausted was indeed the perfect description for Qrow that morning as the man trudged on board the first carriage of the train. He loped onto the train with a back bent over under the weight of the world, hair damp from the rain and a scarf clumsily thrown around his throat, clashing with his more formal attire. Clover grinned, beckoning the man over to his usual seat, which Qrow obeyed wordlessly.</p><p>Clover had to bite back his enthusiasm, instead just smiling gently as the older man yawned over and over again. Red eyes welled with tears springing up with each fatigued sigh. “Long weekend?” Clover teased, offering his seat.</p><p>Qrow shook his head, letting Clover settle back into the vinyl chair. “I’m good, kiddo,” he yawned, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just-“ and he yawned again, clinging wearily to the olive-green railing above Clover’s seat, “-nap before class.”</p><p>“That’s not very professional, Doctor,” Clover teased.</p><p>“Blame my nieces. They came to visit. <em>Gods, </em>you’d think they were still little kids with how much energy they have.”</p><p>Clover leaned back, taking this in. Qrow hadn’t mentioned having nieces during their dinner. “How many do you have? How old are they?”</p><p>“Two- the ripe ol’ ages of twenty-one and nineteen, going onto five and four respectively,” he grumbled. “How many times do you need to kick some kids’ asses before they realize they can’t win?” At Clover’s mildly concerned expression, Qrow clarified, “Fighting games. The brats are obsessed with them. Even brought over their new console, ugh.”</p><p>Still, as the elder man spoke, Clover couldn’t help but smile as Qrow rattled on about what his nieces had done to his poor house over the weekend, upending it in the way only kids could. It was honestly heartwarming to listen to; despite his clear exasperation, the amount of love Qrow felt for his nieces was abundantly clear.</p><p>“You’ll have to tell me more about them sometime,” Clover said, standing up as they rolled into University Station. “They sound like great kids.”</p><p>Qrow grinned, winking at Clover. “Ah yes, the most romantic topic for dinner conversations: my shit-heel nieces.”</p><p><em>Romantic. </em>He still couldn’t believe that he had lucked out, and that Qrow was actually interested in Clover.</p><p>For a moment, the thought crossed Clover’s mind: should he kiss Qrow? Should he wish him a good day at work? Should he use a pet name?</p><p>He wanted to. <em>Wow, I have it worse than I thought, </em>he realized idly.</p><p>But he didn’t. “Have fun with class.”</p><p>“I will.” And with that, the professor was gone, and Clover took his seat again for two more stops.</p><p>Those two stops were eye-opening, though. He wanted to kiss Qrow in public- but could he? Looking around, the train was packed with people all minding their own business. Would they stay so calm seeing two men together? Or would they leave Clover and Qrow alone to just be people?</p><p>It hadn’t been very common in Atlas to see homosexual couples. It just… wasn’t possible there. Not with Atlas being the way it was.</p><p>But there wasn’t an openly gay quarter in Vale, nor was there any overt messaging against the creation of one. The city, the cesspool of mixed filth and confused streets and empty people as it was, didn’t ever seem to stand for <em>anything. </em>Back when the decision to move to Vale had been made, Clover had thought it for the best- living somewhere so transitory, so stuck in the middle, so seemingly apathetic to the millions of lives moving in and around it, had felt freeing after the tight, lifelong scrutiny of living in Atlas. Seeing Qrow’s clear interest in him reinforced that decision abundantly for Clover.</p><p>But what would the world think?</p><p>Clover didn’t know.</p><p>He sighed, feeling a headache coming on. When he finally arrived at the office, that distant aching had compounded like a freight train smashing into his skull, annoyance and weariness setting in before he had time to take his coat off.</p><p>Surprisingly, Marrow was barely getting the coffee pot started when he walked in, two painkillers in hand and ready to down them with caffeine. “You’re running late?” Clover asked, grabbing a few coffee mugs out of the dishwasher. Marrow nodded, lip in a perpetual pout. Clover frowned, taking in Marrow’s fatigued expression, sallow skin, and bloodshot eyes. “Something happened this weekend?”</p><p>“Family emergency stuff,” Marrow said quietly, taking a seat at the lunch table while the machine began to buzz and whir to life, water percolating slowly through the filter. “I spent all weekend trying to figure stuff out, and I’m hosting one of my cousins now. It’s… complicated.” He yawned, the expression of a kicked puppy plain as day.</p><p>Clover sighed. <em>So this problem’s ongoing after all. </em>Before he could ask about it in further detail, however, Marrow stood, plastering on an obviously-fake smile onto his face. “I left all the portfolios on your desk though!”</p><p>And with that, he slumped over again and slogged out of the lounge, heading back to the front desk where he’d presumably continue pouting.</p><p>Clover could only blink after his departure, listening to the coffee drip into the pot. Was it even worth asking him more details right now? He didn’t mess with his staff’s personal lives, only asking what was needed in order to remain engaged and amicable. They weren’t friends- he was merely there to support them in their roles.</p><p><em>I’ll let him go a bit early, </em>he finally decided. <em>He can rest up, and hopefully it’ll be resolved soon.</em></p><p>“What’s the puppy’s problem?” Elm asked as boisterously as ever when she walked in, grabbing a mug for herself and perching onto the edge of the table. “He seems depressed.”</p><p>“His cousin’s been going through something as of late,” Vine replied breezily. The gaunt man made a beeline for the kettle to make some tea.</p><p>Clover frowned, glancing back at the door that led out into the reception area. Of course Vine would’ve already realized what was going on, being as perceptive and empathetic as he was.</p><p><em>Only so much I can do now, though. </em>He would have to simmer on what to do later- for now, he had coffee to drink, painkillers to take, and some meeting presentations to prepare. <em>And plan that next dinner with Qrow, </em>he added, feeling his lips curve into a small smile. At least the first topic of conversation had already been figured out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Thirteen Greeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Thirteenth Greeting</strong>
</p><p>Marrow was not extremely forthcoming with details about his obvious weariness when Clover confronted the secretary about it during their lunch hour. “My cousin’s staying at my place for a bit,” he explained, a worried frown strained upon his normally-vibrant, cheery expression. “It’s just taking a while to get used to, since she’s in a weird situation. I haven’t had roommates since college.”</p><p>Clover sighed. It didn’t seem like the young man was lying, but he clearly wasn’t telling the whole truth. “If you need help, ask,” he chided. “No point in suffering quietly and affecting other parts of your life if it’s all something you can take of sooner with help.”</p><p>He didn’t know if the unspoken, underlying message of, <em>Don’t cause any issues here if you can help it </em>was actually received by the younger; however, the gratitude in Marrow’s face was clear, so Clover backed off, letting himself focus on his client meetings for the week along with how to bring up another date to Qrow.</p><p>Although, realistically, their first meeting on Friday hadn’t actually been a date. Qrow had said it himself; their little adventure to Crow Bar had been about paying Clover back for bringing Qrow’s student’s work to Beacon. If they met up <em>again</em>, it would be a proper date.</p><p>Clover groaned, staring at his phone as it sat idly on his desk. All day, the device had been taunting him. Should he do it? Should he not?</p><p><em>He already agreed to go out with you in some capacity over the weekend, </em>his mind reminded him. <em>It’ll be fine.</em></p><p>It was almost shameful to admit how long his nervousness held him back, however. It was only once Clover was seated on the evening train back, his usual carriage unusually busy for a Monday, that he finally worked up the courage to message Qrow. The man squashed into the seat next to him was texting someone who was presumably his lover, and Clover was able to read the sappy exchange without much effort.</p><p>He wouldn’t admit that the sight gave him courage, but maybe it did. Just a little.</p><p>To his immense relief, Qrow responded within a few minutes, replying once he had finished up a department meeting.</p><p>
  <em>Dinner sounds good.</em>
</p><p>Heart in his throat, Clover messaged him a time for Tuesday evening; it would be Clover’s treat. His finger hovered over the <em>send </em>button for a painfully-long time before finally confirming it, the word <em>date </em>in full view. He felt like he had back in his freshman days of college. It had been a simpler time back then. Living in an all-male dorm for four years hadn’t been the easiest of things, but there had been definite advantages to the situation.</p><p>He banished those thoughts from his mind, spending the rest of his commute dazedly watching the young man in the seat next to him text heartwarming messages to his partner. Then, once he was on his way home, he jogged half the way, eager to make a reservation and get ready for the next night.</p><p>If he was looking at it from a competitive standpoint, Clover was working at a deficit; Qrow had gained such a huge influence on his life already thanks to how deep the rabbit hole went for his professional and academic work. Qrow wasn’t the one listening to Clover’s podcasts on his transit, after all. Qrow wasn’t the one reading numerous academic papers on different sociological frameworks written by Clover. If Clover was going to win him over, he wanted to make some sort of an impression.</p><p>Twenty-four hours later, Maria was cooing at Clover’s freshly-pressed button up and dress pants. The reservation had been made at a local eatery, which boasted a stunning view of Vale despite the less-than-reputable location. Clover was all ready to head out, a bundle of nerves that needed to just <em>get the damn thing over with already because we might as well see if this is going to be an actual thing or not-</em></p><p>Maria insisted on blocking his path. He knew it was intentional, even if she pretended that it wasn’t. “Oh, Clo,” she asked, “you look like you’re going out on a date!”</p><p>“Just meeting a friend for dinner, Mrs. Calavera,” he replied calmly, trying to ignore the time ticking away on the clock in the lobby of the apartment complex. He wanted to be early, to greet the man on the platform.</p><p>Maria pouted, rolling her eyes, the movement magnified by her giant glasses. “Oh, I see,” she said wearily. “Someone who isn’t my granddaughter… I see how it is…”</p><p>Clover groaned. “Mrs. Calavera- Maria,” he said, kneeling down in front of her, “you’ve already set me up with your daughter once. Please let it go with your granddaughter. I’m not looking to date; I’d be wasted on them.” <em>Also I’m gay. And hopefully, after tonight, taken. </em></p><p>His landlord shook her cane at him, gesturing for him to go. “Fine, fine. Go to your dinner! See if I care about having a handsome young son like you!” Her bitter pout and angry waddle did nothing to hide her annoyance. Still, his water was fixed and his rent was paid, and with all things considered, Maria wasn’t <em>actually </em>a bad landlord, despite how silly she was. So, he shoved the interaction into the back of his mind and headed to the subway.</p><p>The moment red eyes alighted onto the platform on the stop right beside University Station, Clover had a smile and an umbrella waiting. “Hey there,” Clover grinned.</p><p>Qrow, clearly having just finished a lecture with an ungainly bag slung over his shoulder, sent him an embarrassed smile back, eyes lingering up and down Clover’s well-dressed figure. “Did you dress up for me?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>He was smug as Qrow’s smile grew, ears tinging pink. Then, they were off.</p><p>Dinner was an easygoing affair. Just as promised, Qrow shared more about his personal life this time- over a plate of salmon, the professor told Clover all about his nieces. Ruby and Yang were both students at Beacon, it turned out, although Yang was in Kinesiology and Ruby was in their Social Work program. “The two brats keep hanging out at my place every few weeks,” Qrow groaned, stabbing at his broccoli bitterly. “You’d think they’d get over hanging out with their uncle, but <em>no.</em>”</p><p>Clover didn’t mind listening to the man ramble on, eagerly encouraging him to continue. It was preferable than sharing his own sordid, yet dull history; there was not much to say in Clover’s life. He had been fairly successful, done well all throughout school and college, endured high society in Atlas, and then…</p><p>
  <em>Robyn. </em>
</p><p>And that wasn’t a story for a second- or first, depending on how you counted it- date.</p><p>Thankfully, Qrow was a talker, especially with a few drinks in him. Clover was spared, allowing himself to instead just relax in the other man’s presence, soaking in the sheer <em>joy </em>exuded from every pore as he spoke about his nieces with pride.</p><p>The cheque came at last, and Clover put down his card without hesitation. Qrow grinned, pretending to fan himself in flustered awe. “Damn, I feel so pampered. I can’t remember the last time I ate this much for free.”</p><p>“You treated me last time.”</p><p>“Yeah, to pub food.”</p><p>“Don’t feel bad. Crow Bar was great, but you’re forgetting the fact that we clearly have different goals here,” Clover laughed.</p><p>Leaning forward, Qrow propped his chin up on his hand, the pretense of curiosity destroyed by the knowing twinkle in his eye. “Oh yeah? What’s your goal, boy scout?”</p><p>Clover reached out, lifting Qrow’s chin off his hand and taking that hand in his own, discretely intertwining their fingers under the table. “To win you over,” he said. “Is it working?”</p><p>To his horror, Qrow merely shrugged. “Meh. I’m more into cheap drinks and food.” Clover gawped at his clear shut-down until Qrow relaxed, shaking his head. “I <em>guess </em>the eye candy is good enough, too.” His gaze ran up and down Clover again, teasing despite its obvious meaning.</p><p>On the surface, Clover rolled his eyes, taking a drink with the most exasperated expression he could. “You’re such an ass, you old crow,” he groaned. On the inside, however, he couldn’t hold back his joy, and the hand held within his was more than enough to make him realize that this thing they had was actually happening. It was real.</p><p>After a moment, however, Qrow asked, eyes focused on passersby on the sidewalk outside of the window, “I guess I should start planning how to win you over, too.”</p><p>“No need.”</p><p>“What, I don’t even get a chance?”</p><p>“Nah. You had a head start. I call cheating.”</p><p>The conversation tapered off into quiet murmurs, barely audible above the sound of the music playing in the background and the din of other diners; but Clover didn’t mind. It was just an excuse to lean closer, speak softer, smile sweeter. Qrow didn’t seem to mind it, either.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Fourteenth Meal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My FG fics usually end around the 18-19k mark, so we are officially in uncharted territory, folks. I am lowkey bewildered as to what to do. What do you mean, you can write longer FG fics???</p><p>Also, if ya missed it, I started writing another canon-verse V7 FG fic: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976354">The F Word</a>. It's Tumblr kiss prompts and fluff/angst. Check it out if that's your jam!</p><p>Let me know what you think of this chapter :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Fourteenth Meal</strong>
</p><p>Clover went home that night alone with naught but a promise for a meetup at Crow Bar on Friday. A part of him was <em>furious </em>with the result; he had wanted to figure out where he stood with Qrow by the end of the night. At the very least, he had wanted to <em>try </em>and ask the man out properly. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to kiss Qrow; but with all of the hubbub of a weekday evening surrounding them, they never found the chance to be alone.</p><p>The next day on his morning commute, Clover let his thoughts drift back to their goodbye. Qrow had smiled so sweetly, jokingly hugging Clover’s arm so that he could stand underneath Clover’s umbrella. He hadn’t let go of his arm though, even when the rain had let up. The amount of restraint it had taken Clover to not brush the frazzled professor’s hair out of his eyes, pulling him closer before he finally released Clover’s arm and boarded the westward train, was absolutely mindboggling. Clover didn’t even know how he’d managed to pull it off.</p><p>Still, progress had clearly been made. Clover perked up, looking at the doors expectantly as they rolled into the fifth station on his route. How would Qrow greet him today? Would he smile? Would he be embarrassed? It hadn’t been raining that morning, so maybe the man would be less grouchy. <em>He’ll certainly be less hungover, </em>Clover thought wryly. They had only had a few glasses each the night before, after all.</p><p>Unfortunately, Qrow didn’t board the train. A pang of concern struck Clover immediately; he knew that Qrow had a class at 8:30AM to teach on Wednesdays, meaning he didn’t really have much choice but to board Clover’s train that day unless he wanted to run to his lecture hall. Where was he?</p><p>Before he could second-guess himself, Clover messaged Qrow. To his relief, the response was fairly immediate. The man had simply gone to work early to photocopy and go over tests.</p><p>“Are you free tonight?” Clover said aloud as he typed, shouldering his bag as the train rolled into his stop.</p><p>A few minutes later, Qrow replied with a negative; there were midterms happening that day. <em>I’m invigilating and marking late, </em>Qrow said. The man immediately began unloading his thoughts about the whole process onto Clover, his phone buzzing so continuously that Clover quickly turned off the vibration. He could read the rant later, but for right then, it was a little overwhelming.</p><p>Clover sighed, tucking his phone away as he stepped into AST’s office. “Morning, Marrow,” he said cordially, taking a moment to check over the younger man’s face. He seemed much more well-rested than the previous few days. “How are you doing? And your cousin?”</p><p>Marrow froze in surprise, then beamed. “She’s doing good!” he said, far brighter than Clover had seen him all week. “I brought her to school early today then came here. It’s nice that it wasn’t raining, huh?”</p><p><em>Brought her to school? </em>Clover raised his brows, impressed. <em>I didn’t realize he was taking care of a kid. </em>“Well, that’s good to hear,” he responded neutrally, turning towards his office. “Keep it up.”</p><p>“Sure thing, boss!” Marrow called after him.</p><p>Clover couldn’t help but smile. Things always felt a little off-kilter if the young man wasn’t at his best. It would be nice to get a semblance of normalcy back in the office.</p><p>When he finally pulled out his phone again after a hectic morning of meetings and another routine, frustrating call from his mother back in Atlas, Clover took a moment to read over Qrow’s morning rant. It essentially boiled down to a few things: Qrow hated invigilating; Qrow hated marking; Qrow hated lugging all the papers home, and so he would inevitably end up practically living in his office for a few days to get it all done at work.</p><p>
  <em>Well, he needs to eat, doesn’t he?</em>
</p><p>He smiled, silently making plans and getting ready for the afternoon’s work.</p><p>By the end of the day, he felt contented with what had been accomplished. Everyone seemed on track for all of their projects, all of their clients were happy, and an email from James told him that his branch’s numbers were far higher than what was projected, so clearly corporate was happy, too. With those little successes carrying him along, Clover packed up his bag, threw on his coat, and headed out into the city.</p><p>Beacon University was apparently a little calmer outside of the lunch hour. Only a few students milled about with nightfall fast approaching, the sidewalks fairly quiet. It made sense; not many classes would tend to run late into the evenings, so unless if students lived on campus or there was an event, there was little reason to linger longer than they had to.</p><p>The Department of Sociology’s building was far easier to find the second time around. To his surprise, he was recognized; the same woman working the front desk smiled amicably at him, waving him upstairs when Clover stepped through the front door. With a word of thanks, Clover made his way up the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor until he was standing outside of Qrow’s office.</p><p>He knocked. A crass, bitter voice growled, “This ain’t office hours, so unless you’re Oz, go-“</p><p>Clover opened the door and stuck his head inside. Instantly, he was struck by the sight of a few things: the massive stacks of paper piled up around him, the jacket and bag thrown haphazardly on the small table tucked into the corner, and the thick-framed, rectangular glasses perched upon Qrow’s straight nose.</p><p>Qrow was halfway to yelling when he saw Clover’s face, immediately going slack-jawed and losing steam. Clover grinned sheepishly, holding up what had delayed him after work: a bag of takeout. “I heard someone was annoyed about marking,” he said softly. “I thought food might help. Was I right?”</p><p>The elder’s face softened, the severity draining away as he pulled off his glasses. Clover sucked in a breath watching the motion, seeing how those bright red eyes focused tenderly upon him. “You read my mind, boy scout,” Qrow said. “Is this what you do for community service? Feed poor, overworked, underpaid professors whose damn TAs catch a cold during peak midterm season so they can’t mark?”</p><p>Clover laughed, “Nothing in the job description about feeding professors. Plenty about feeding the elderly, though-“</p><p>“Son of a-“ Qrow scoffed and threw a pencil from his desk half-heartedly at him, which Clover dodged with ease. The younger pulled off his coat and dragged a chair up to sit on the other side of his desk. With a wry smile, he set out the food, handing Qrow cutlery and offering, “I don’t know if I can help with written work, but if there’s multiple choice or anything, I’m happy to help.”</p><p>“I’m not paying you,” Qrow said immediately, pushing aside the paper he had been marking in favour of taking a box of noodles.</p><p>Clover shrugged. “I accept payment in different forms,” he said with a wink. To his satisfaction, Qrow blushed slightly, fumbling with his chopsticks. After a moment, Clover admitted, “You seemed stressed, so I came here. Be honest- was it too much?”</p><p>Qrow relaxed and beamed. “It’s perfect, kid.” Clover almost grinned back victoriously before Qrow added, “Also, there <em>is </em>a multiple choice section. Get ready.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>Dinner was delicious, and when it was all done and Qrow kissed him at the nearly-empty station as thanks for his help, Clover knew that he had enjoyed his night grading terrible midterms with Qrow far more than their dinner at the fancy restaurant.</p><p>After all, when Qrow concentrated, he tended to stick out his tongue slightly. Thank goodness marking multiple choice didn’t require that much concentration, because his attention was fixated on thick, intellectual glasses and sultry half-lidded crimson eyes and bright, shining silver tongue studs all evening.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fifteenth Attempt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Clover's having some unnecessary... *feelings*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Fifteenth Attempt</strong>
</p><p>“Clover, has something changed?”</p><p>Clover paused. This wasn’t the routine conversation. “…Why?” he asked cautiously, immediately putting up a defense.</p><p>Still, his mother’s tone was soft. “You sound happier these days.” There was a world and a half of hesitation in her voice when she whispered, “…Happier away from home, huh sweetie?”</p><p>He swallowed thickly, feeling shame rising up like bile in his throat. With a few crisp words, he ended the conversation and put away his phone, allowing himself to rest his forehead in his hands. He had another client meeting soon; he needed to be ready to face them. At the same time, however, he knew where his mother’s hesitation came from. He knew why her words shook, voice barely audible on the other end. And that mere knowing was enough to shake <em>him. </em></p><p>She probably understood where the lightness in his voice, his <em>heart, </em>was coming from. After all, he hadn’t felt like this in years. Clover was pretty sure that this was what happiness felt like, and it was all thanks to Qrow.</p><p>He and Qrow saw each other a few times every week. Friday nights were always spent at Crow Bar- Qrow’s treat. Throughout the week, Clover occasionally brought whatever shitty takeout Qrow was craving to Beacon’s campus, keeping the man company while he slaved away over presentation slides and marking papers and creating assignments. Not even Robyn’s looming, increasingly passive-aggressive texts and reminders to come back to Atlas could ruin the joy that Qrow’s presence brought him.</p><p>And every single time they parted, Clover would glance around, make sure they were alone, and then he’d kiss the man goodnight. Qrow never shied away- far from it, in fact, that silver stud slipping into Clover’s mouth so sensually that he wanted to <em>melt. </em>Qrow, the teasing bastard that he was, would leave him at the station and wink as he said his goodnights, leaving Clover heavy-lidded and wanton, desperate to get home and throw himself into a workout to distract himself from his imagination. Imagination was all he’d allow himself; not until Qrow took another step would Clover dare.</p><p>As days with Qrow turned into weeks, this routine carried onwards. The rainy season intensified, with it coming darker days and more bleak cityscapes. A year earlier, Clover hadn’t cared about the dip into wintertime, with Vale’s winter being nothing more than wretched, icy filth; but now, with Qrow’s eyes shining as he commented how he “liked seeing the sunset early” while he worked, Clover finally found himself noticing that the incoming winter of Vale wasn’t as terrible as he thought.</p><p>James noticed the changes in Clover’s demeanor, too. “You’re growing softer, Clover,” he mused one day as they pored over reports. “Something good’s been happening.” With a glint in his eye, he offered, “You meet anyone special?”</p><p>Clover simply cleared his throat and flipped the page of the packet. “Nothing too significant,” he said, face a perfect mask of neutrality. But he could feel James’ knowing smile on him for the rest of the meeting, and thus, Clover avoided looking up as much as possible. He didn’t want to be asked more details; he didn’t know how James would react if he accidentally let it slip that he was gay.</p><p>He finally allowed himself to look at the other man when James murmured, “You’re doing even better work like this, you know. It’s more human. Keep this up, and you’ll be getting that solstice promotion for sure.”</p><p>Clover immediately locked eyes with James, a confident grin growing on his face. “I’ll do my best,” he replied. Inside, his heart was singing- finally, he would be able to take a step forward on his plan to establish himself properly in Vale.</p><p>One night after decimating a trivia game at Crow Bar with Qrow, the two of them had won far too many free drinks than was healthy for either of them, and they stumbled home in a faltering haze. Qrow was a giggly drunk, always laughing and tripping over his feet; Clover was slower to process, somehow steadier thanks to lacking reaction times. Weeks earlier, he had given up on even trying to catch Qrow on their walks back to the station, instead just looping Qrow’s arm through his and holding the elder man’s hand on the way home to keep him upright.</p><p>It was with Qrow’s hand in his, the elder giddy and flushed and losing balance by his side, that Clover finally put the want in his heart into tangible thought.<em> I should just ask him to stay the night with me, </em>he thought to himself through his drunken stupor. <em>He’ll say yes.</em></p><p>He wanted to bring Qrow home.</p><p>His heart was in his throat as they rode the seven stops over to Qrow’s usual station, the empty train’s squeaking carriage echoing like thunder in his ears. Qrow’s fingers were still laced in his, the elder talking about upcoming final exams for the students.</p><p><em>Say it! </em>his dizzy brain implored, but every time he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come out. How could he say it? He just couldn’t find the courage. Not after everything.</p><p>…perhaps Robyn’s derisive texts were having an effect on him, after all.</p><p>So, when Qrow stood up shakily, slurred, “My stop, lucky charm,” and dragged Clover to his feet, Clover allowed his pleas of desire and lust and hope to be muffled by the taste of beer and Qrow, metal clinking clumsily against his teeth. Clover allowed himself to be taken in for a long, sweet moment as the empty train slowed to a stop, the doors screeching open as Qrow pulled away at last. “See you later.”</p><p>The way his heart <em>ached </em>for Qrow Branwen as he walked away each time was beyond anything Clover had ever experienced.</p><p>But he couldn’t risk pushing further. He had already broken his routine too much. He had already strayed too far away from the confines of his normal life. And even if he did finally ask Qrow to stay the night, what would he have to show for it? A tiny, barren apartment in a poorer sector of town? Qrow’s neighbourhood was far wealthier, which made sense if Qrow was able to easily house his nieces whenever he wanted. What if Qrow asked questions, wondered why he had come to Vale with nothing but the clothes on his back and a single, lonely suitcase and shame bearing down on his shoulders like the looming, icy mountains of Atlus itself?</p><p>He couldn’t risk it. He was content with fingers locked with his, kisses stolen in the solitude of drunken nights. That was more than he could have ever hoped for.</p><p>It was with that mix of weary resignation, pent-up desire and heady, blissful joy that Clover finally faced the news of his raise right as first snows began to dust Vale’s streets. The word was quickly brought to Qrow, their usual takeout in the Department of Sociology’s office turning into full-on dinner plans. “Drinks on me tonight, kid,” Qrow insisted, slinging his arm around Clover’s shoulders. “You’ll be treating me even more from now on, though.”</p><p>And Clover laughed and hummed, “Of course; boy scout’s honour,” because Qrow’s unfaltering pride in Clover’s accomplishment made him feel so <em>damn loved, </em>and Clover would happily dip into his usually-strict budget to put a smile on Qrow’s face any day.</p><p>To their surprise, as they were leaving the building, a young woman was standing awkwardly at the side of the path. Qrow seemed to recognize her, pulling away from Clover to call out, “Miss Belladonna, what brings you here?” The young woman turned, relief flitting across her face as she held out papers to Qrow.</p><p>Clover watched it all with disinterest. She was clearly a student, her voice frantic and worried- black-tipped manicured nails brushed through long black hair nervously. Clover didn’t blink twice when he saw her. She seemed like an average kid.</p><p>What <em>did </em>surprise him, however, was how his secretary stood right behind her, pointing a finger at Clover in shock. “Boss-man?” Marrow squeaked.</p><p>It was 6PM and Clover wasn’t paid for any of this anymore. He just wanted to snatch Qrow away from his student and board the subway. But when he looked into Marrow’s eyes and saw a slight hint of visible distress, he squashed down those thoughts, let out a tiny sigh, and pulled up his most client-ready smile. A sense of foreboding seized his gut. <em>It’s going to be a while before those celebratory drinks, huh?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Sixteenth Mistake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've started and finished quite a few different fics since I last updated. It does not feel like it's been just around 2 weeks! Here are the Fair Game ones:</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217998">Bite Me, Pretty Boy</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25326847">shimmer and shine, strawberry blonde boy</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430089">Save the Last Dance</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439404"> Corvus</a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461568">Perfect Storm</a>.</p><p>Can you tell that I've really been great at procrastinating on irl work? (don't worry, everything is always finished on time but I need the break from the s t r e s s)</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Sixteenth Mistake</strong>
</p><p>The next few hours were a blur which Clover had not been prepared for in any way, shape or form.</p><p>Upon asking Marrow what was going on, the younger man had pulled him aside whilst the young woman spoke to Qrow. Clover murmured, “What are you doing here, Marrow? Is that your partner?”</p><p>Marrow made a face. “No, no, Blake’s not- <em>ew, </em>that’s my cousin! The one who’s staying with me.”</p><p>Clover blinked for a moment before the pieces fell into place. He had assumed that the cousin in question was a child, not a young woman who could not have been too many years younger than Marrow herself. “I thought she was- why are you picking your cousin up from university?”</p><p>Marrow’s face fell, weariness and frustration oozing from every pore. His voice softened considerably as he murmured, “It’s really complicated. Just… it’s… yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his hands, unsure of what to say.</p><p>Crossing his arms across his chest, Clover took a moment to survey the situation. The girl speaking to Qrow looked like she was finishing up her points as fast as possible, rushing and stumbling through her words. Her eyes were anywhere but Qrow, glancing at her hands, over her shoulder, the doors of the department building; something about the whole affair made sirens ring in his mind.</p><p>Thankfully, Qrow accepted whatever paper she was holding without too much scolding, waving goodbye as the young woman quickly waved to Marrow to follow and turned to head northeast. Clover watched them go idly after a quick goodbye to his secretary; the duo were likely heading to the bus station located farther north upon the campus than the subway, meaning he would be able to speak to Qrow in relative privacy.</p><p>It was a good thing, too. Qrow’s expression was troubled and twisted, concern painted clear as day upon his brow as he tucked the paper into his bag and walked up to Clover. Upon seeing the younger’s business-like smile, Qrow’s face fell even further, the man murmured, “She says everything’s fine, but I’m going to put in a request for a reach-out,” he explained, gesturing for Clover to join him as they headed to the train. “Something’s not right there. She’s a pretty good student normally, but lately she’s been really scattered.”</p><p>“A reach-out?” Clover asked. He felt his heart softening as he saw the genuine worry in Qrow’s eyes. <em>He really cares about those students, huh? </em>It was a little surprising to see, since the usually rough man was always doing nothing but griping about marking and making lessons, but whenever Qrow interacted with his actual students, Clover couldn’t help but melt at the care and compassion the elder put into his work. <em>If only you’d been at my school.</em></p><p>Clover quickly shook the thought out of his mind. If he had had a professor like Qrow, he would never have paid any attention in class…</p><p>Quickly, Qrow explained the systems put in place at Beacon to help troubled students, finishing with, “She should be fine with their support, but at the very least I think I’ll ask my nieces about what’s going on, too. They’re friends with her, I’m pretty sure.”</p><p>As they entered the station, Clover longed to wrap his arms around the elder and pull him close. Qrow looked genuinely rattled, mind clearly focused entirely on the odd circumstance. He didn’t, though, with so many bodies still bustling through area, their bright voices echoing off the clean, beautifully painted walls. He wouldn’t be able to do that unless they had some privacy, and although he hated to admit it, privacy seemed like exactly what Qrow needed at that moment; some time alone, away from everyone else- including Clover, sadly enough- would likely do Qrow some good.</p><p><em>Well. We can always get drinks another time. </em>There was no reason to cancel their usual Friday plans, after all.</p><p>Passing through the ticket gate, Clover felt a light touch on his arm. Qrow was looking sheepish, embarrassed despite having no reason to be. “Did you… still want to celebrate?” he murmured, standing close upon the busy platform while they waited for their train. “My offer still stands, you know-“</p><p>“Do you need any help filing the paperwork you mentioned?”</p><p>Qrow froze, shaking his head slowly. “No, I- I don’t think so, no. It’s pretty straightforward to start- the main pain in the ass is doing all the follow-up afterwards.” He pouted, confused. “Why?”</p><p>Clover grinned, leaning his head close to the other man to murmur, “If you really think we should celebrate this, then I’m happy to be treated another day. For now, just focus on getting that done and contacting your nieces, okay?” He kept his voice sweet and doting, watching the other man’s reaction carefully. A part of him longed to see the man spring back to life, excited for their impromptu adventure once more. It was a willful thought; he shoved it down just as quickly as it had emerged, awaiting his response.</p><p>Still, he didn’t tear his eyes away from Qrow’s face. He wanted Qrow to understand. After all, at this rate, he would never built up the courage to say it.</p><p>Oddly enough, Qrow looked visibly taken aback more than anything. “You… you know,” he laughed clumsily, clearing his throat as he watched the train’s headlights flood the tunnel the rumble into the station, “you really don’t need to be so nice. Someone’s gonna take advantage of that pure heart of yours one day, boy scout.”</p><p>Immediately, Clover winced. <em>Too late. </em>Still, as the train’s brakes squealed to a stop and passengers began to flood out, leaving room for Qrow and Clover to board and head back home, he reached out, letting his fingers tenderly brush out of red eyes the hair knocked into Qrow’s face from the wind tunnel formed by the train. “I don’t <em>need</em> to,” he murmured as he guided Qrow to his usual seat at the front of his usual carriage, sitting the man down and grabbing onto those sickly olive-green railings above Qrow’s head to keep his balance. “But I want to.”</p><p>The words hung heavy in the air. To the rest of the passengers, it would’ve been nothing but a quick gesture of appreciation, of simple affection between two friends. Nothing about it rang out of the ordinary.</p><p>With the way Qrow’s eyes widened, impossibly large as he looked up at Clover from that singular seat, however, Clover knew- Qrow had understood the message. This wasn’t just about seeing him every few days, or drunken kisses when they had had a good time before they said goodbye. Clover wasn’t in this half-heartedly.</p><p>Clover smiled, just barely. “Is… that okay with you?”</p><p>Qrow didn’t respond. Instead, Qrow merely sat up slightly in his seat, grabbed Clover’s tie, and pulled him down for a kiss.</p><p>There was nothing drunken about this, nothing flirtatious or teasing or exciting. This was pure- all movement and heat and careful, tender warmth, the tongue stud remaining chastely in his mouth, only coming out to brush up against Clover’s lips as Qrow continued the content, desperately holding Clover against him. Without alcohol and food to numb his tongue, Clover was helpless to do anything but savour the taste upon Qrow’s tongue, and he realized distantly that he could happily feel Qrow against him forever.</p><p>And then, the train jolted, their teeth clashed lightly, and Clover snapped out of his heady stupor.</p><p>Instantly, the man pulled himself away, fixing his tie and glancing around furtively. Had anyone seen them? Was anyone looking? Vale was different from Atlas, true, but what if-</p><p>His eyes fell down upon Qrow, finding a distinctly different expression waiting for him as compared to the wide-eyed affection that had won over Qrow’s expression just moments before. Red irises were dull, a slightly bruised mouth set into a grim line, muscles in a sharp jaw clenched and hands gripping onto the strap of his bag white-knuckled. “Are you okay?” Qrow asked tentatively.</p><p>Clover let out an awkward chuckle, feeling his chest heave as he fought to regain the breath Qrow seemed to have stolen from his very lungs. “Sorry, just- what if someone saw?” he whispered.</p><p>The fifth station was rolling around. Qrow sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Standing up with more force than necessary, he slipped out of his seat past Clover and forced the man by his shoulders to sit down in the warm, singular seat in his stead. “Why would it matter?” Qrow finally said.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t go. Come home with me.</em>
</p><p>The words didn’t leave Clover’s mouth as the train trundled to a stop, the din of fellow passengers finally drowning out all other sounds as Qrow nodded curtly, sighed, and headed off the train, looking past dejected and almost bitter as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Clover behind with nothing but the taste of Qrow upon his tongue and a rumpled tie, along with a sense of shame hung over his head like a mantle.</p><p>And it was then that Clover knew that he had truly, well and properly <em>fucked up.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Seventeenth Drink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Seventeenth Drink</strong>
</p><p>The celebration of his raise was a lonely one, spent hunched over a bottle of whisky that depleted far too quick to be healthy. Clover didn’t care, barely even registering what he was doing as he numbly drank, allowing himself to just fade out of his plain, almost oppressive apartment and focus solely upon the memory of Qrow’s shock, surprise, acceptance… heartbreak.</p><p>Qrow had walked away without a second thought. Clover had made a mistake.</p><p>The amount of bitterness in Qrow’s eyes, in his resignation as he had stepped off the train, hung hollowly in Clover’s heart; but what was Clover supposed to have done in that situation- allowed Qrow to kiss him in public? What if someone had seen, what if someone had found out- he couldn’t jeopardize Qrow’s career, he couldn’t go <em>through this again-</em></p><p>His phone buzzed. For a fleeting, drunken moment, he lunged at the device laying on the opposite end of his small dining table. It was for naught, however, as he opened up his messages only to see Robyn’s name on the screen. A bark of a laugh slipped past his lips. Had she somehow sensed his complete self-loathing from across the world and decided to dig the knife in deeper? Grimacing, he put the phone down and ignored the messages, downing the rest of his glass and placing his forehead on the table, feeling cool wood against his lightly sweat-streaked forehead, the anxiety roiling within him dulled only slightly by the alcohol.</p><p>Had he lost Qrow?</p><p>The mere thought of it was enough to almost shatter him, and that fact in itself threw him completely off-kilter. Somehow, the older man had slipped past all of Clover’s defenses and, despite the initial attraction having been solely based on curiosity and physicality, the idea that Clover would never again have Qrow’s laughter in his ear, his wit and frustration and humour and sweetness in his reach, was terrifying.</p><p>So, he drank. And the next morning, it took all of his willpower to get him out of bed and dressed for the day, the downpour of rain and wind biting against his jacket, tossing his umbrella this way and that as he fought the weather with a spinning head and reddened eyes until he made it to a slightly-flooded, reeking subway station. The smell was enough to turn his already-weak stomach, nearly causing him to vomit into a nearby trashcan; he managed to hold down the bile, keeping his balance by a hair as the train rushed into the station and wafted a new wave of the stench of poverty and disrepair into his face.</p><p>As he settled into his usual seat, pressing his forehead against his bag to try and regain some sense of stability as the carriage jostled and swayed, an idle thought popped into his head.</p><p>
  <em>Well, at least I’ll be able to afford moving out soon.</em>
</p><p>The thought didn’t bring as much joy as he would have liked. After all, although he would never have admitted it to anyone, he had wanted Qrow to be there when he finally moved- he had wanted Qrow to come home with him then.</p><p>That… probably wasn’t going to happen.</p><p><em>Wait, what am I even doing? Am I a kid? </em>He groaned, lifted his face and fishing out his phone from his pocket. <em>I need to message him. </em>There was no point in weeping without reaching out, and as he unlocked the device, he began to curse himself for being so blinded by his visceral shock the night before to not have done so earlier.</p><p>What greeted him was Robyn’s slew of messages he had previously ignored, detailing exactly when the large family reunion that his mother had been chiding him about for almost a year was finally going to take place. It was important, he knew; lots of stakeholders and field professionals and military officials would be present for what would culminate in a charity event put on by his parents, and it reeked of every bit of conservative bureaucracy and false generosity and tainted pretenses that made up everything he hated about Atlas. He wasn’t going to respond, wasn’t going to give her the time of day, not after everything she had done.</p><p>He stared at her name forlornly, feeling exhaustion well up in his bones beyond measure. <em>It’s because of what you did that this is all happening, </em>he thought weakly. He knew it wasn’t exactly true, but it felt good to project his anger away from himself for once. He was so tired, and he needed to fix that before client meetings that day.</p><p>With pounding temples and his heart sitting in the soles of his feet, he finally opened up Qrow’s contact and sent him a message. Fingers flew across the keyboard. <em>Hey, I wanted to- </em>he erased the message. <em>How’s it- </em>no, that wouldn’t work either. He typed sentence starter after sentence starter, unable to find the words to say that could adequately express his confusion, his fear. He didn’t want to be weak in front of Qrow. He didn’t want to lose him, either.</p><p>Finally, he settled on, <em>Hey, how did working on that paperwork go? You doing alright?</em></p><p>Qrow didn’t seem to even read it. As they rolled into the fifth station on Clover’s route, no red eyes or cool smirks entered his vision. Clover spent the rest of his trip alone, taking deep breaths and praying he wouldn’t vomit on the shoes of the other passengers nearby.</p><p>Once in the office, he pulled on the most professional façade he could before approaching the counter, trying to keep some level of calm in his voice as he asked Marrow, “How’s your cousin doing?”</p><p>Marrow smiled uneasily. “She’s doing alright,” he said, expression strained. “It’s not a great situation, but we’ll figure out, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Just know, the professor you two saw yesterday is looking into ways to help her should she need it, so tell her to reach out, okay?”</p><p>Relief bloomed on his face. “That’s awesome! Thanks, boss. I’ll let her know.”</p><p>“No worries.” He paused, wincing as his empty stomach protested, his mouth dry and sour. “Also, can you make another pot of coffee?”</p><p>“Sure thing!”</p><p>Clover gave him a smile and a nod before walking into his office, allowing the door to close completely before he let out the sigh which had been building up for what felt like the entire journey to work. The pounding in his temples wasn’t going away- he was going to have a long, long day.</p><p>One long day turned into two, and two turned into three, filled with discomfort and a vague sense of dread and loss hanging over his head like a shroud. Qrow never responded to that message, and although Marrow perked up a little after Clover’s words, Clover could not feel at ease. Even working out wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. How could he relax when one careless phrase had ruined everything he had been building for weeks?</p><p>All of his fear turned into relief in an instant the moment he stepped outside of AST on Friday after work, for leaning against the wall across the street was none other than the professor that hadn’t left Clover’s mind all week. His eyes were fixated on the sky, watching the rainfall distantly from under the overhang that protected him. Clover’s heart jumped up into his throat, and he found himself pausing at the crosswalk across the road, taking in the sight that had become a normal fixture of Clover’s Friday evenings.</p><p>What was he supposed to say to Qrow? Why was he waiting for Clover, even after Clover’s accidental rejection?</p><p>Still, the light turned white, indicating that he could go forward. So, Clover stepped out, biting his lip nervously, hands gripped tightly around the handle of his umbrella and the strap of his bag. His steps were hesitant, but eventually, he was standing in front of Qrow. “Hey, you,” he said softly. “How are you? Didn’t see you this morning.” The question was soft, containing none of the bluster and bravado and wit he usually was able to project with the older man. Qrow’s face was too haggard to pretend to be anything but genuine.</p><p>Bloodshot eyes creased as Qrow yawned before finally looking at Clover. “You were worried?”</p><p>Clover’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to regain some sense of control. For a brief moment, he wanted to ask why Qrow hadn’t responded to his messages, why he had left Clover floundering for something to hold onto, to tell himself that their growing, yet undefined relationship hadn’t crumbled in an instant. He could not find the words to do so, however, for simply seeing Qrow waiting for him here filled him with such profound relief that he just didn’t know what to do. He finally settled on a soft smile. “Of course.”</p><p>Qrow’s expression was still troubled, but eventually, the man pushed off the wall, brushing damp strands out of his eyes. He didn’t have an umbrella with him. Clover held out his own, beckoning Qrow to join him. “Drinks,” he said firmly. “My treat. You can tell me what’s been going on.”</p><p>The smile that Qrow gave him was so oddly timid that Clover could have melted. “I thought I needed to treat you,” he said.</p><p>“We can save that for next time. Well… if you’re okay with that.”</p><p>
  <em>Please understand.</em>
</p><p>Letting out a weary sigh, Qrow tucked his hands into his pockets and stepped forward, joining Clover under his large umbrella. “Let’s go, boy scout,” Qrow said.</p><p>And while Clover had a million and one questions swirling around in his brain, having Qrow’s body next to his, his footsteps in time with Clover’s, was good enough for then.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Eighteenth Confession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here it finally is!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eighteenth Confession</strong>
</p><p>It was clear that Qrow hadn’t been doing very well over the past few days. If there was anything Clover had known about Qrow from the get-go, it was that the elder enjoyed his alcohol; Clover still laughed when remembering how clearly hungover the man had been the first time Clover had laid eyes upon him. So, to see the man only half-heartedly wink at their usual waitress before outright rejecting the offer of a drink, instead asking for hot water and massaging his temples, Clover’s discomfort with the elder and his annoyance for having had his messages ignored faded away in a heartbeat.</p><p>“Hey,” Clover murmured softly, reaching out across the table to grab Qrow’s hand, pulling it away from his head and instead gently massaging the callused, large, bony palm within his. “What’s going on, Qrow? Talk to me.”</p><p>Qrow didn’t respond, so Clover simply focused on massaging the tense hand within his own, smiling gently as heat coiled within him. Just holding Qrow’s hand was enough to soothe some of his anxieties that had been building over the past few days. <em>Gods, I’m weak for him, huh? </em>Amused, he said, “I didn’t see you on the train this morning. Did you get to class on time?”</p><p>When he finally looked up to Qrow’s face, however, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach as dark red watched him distrustfully. Qrow removed his hand from Clover’s, leaving it on his lap as he replied frankly, “Well, yeah. Had to. It’s a job.”</p><p>Clover paused, hand still on the table, awkwardly adjusting his hair before leaning back in their booth. “So, what’s been going on? How’s the situation with your student?”</p><p>That seemed to ease some of Qrow’s concerns; the man sighed, sagging forward in his seat as he began to bitterly recount the situation. The waitress brought Clover’s usual beer and Qrow’s unusual hot water, and the elder wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, brow furrowed and troubled. “It’s just gotten more complicated than I could’ve bargained for,” he grumbled wearily.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Clover asked, biting back his own fears and heartbreak, for Qrow had never pulled away from him before, had never rejected his touch- did he hate him? Did he no longer want anything to do with Clover? Was he done with him?</p><p>The mere thought of it sent Clover to his drink, chugging down half his tank before Qrow could get in another word.</p><p>Qrow didn’t even notice his sudden behaviour, too focused on his water as he fought to find the words to explain what was going on. Eventually, however, he began to speak, an exhausted, wry expression on his face. “Remember the student? I was right, she’s a friend of my nieces. There’s this whole situation that I’m not exactly allowed to disclose- privacy breaches, confidentiality, blah blah blah- but we’re essentially trying to relocate her, but keeping her on campus doesn’t seem like an option.” He sighed heavily, his weariness clear in every single wrinkle upon his face. “I just want to be able to go to bed without having my nieces crying, y’know? This is really freaking Ruby out, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”</p><p>“Isn’t she staying with Marrow?” To his confused look, Clover explained, “Her cousin, the guy with her on Tuesday. She’s been staying with him for a while; he’s my secretary, so I’ve been checking in on them.”</p><p>For the first time that evening, something resembling a smile crossed Qrow’s lips. “Of <em>course </em>you’d be checking in, you bastard,” he said quietly.</p><p>Clover frowned, crossing his arms. “What does that mean?”</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes, ignoring Clover’s question as he continued, “Apparently that cousin’s place isn’t working out. I wish I could say more, but…” He bit his lip, clearly wishing he could share more information. “We’re looking for emergency housing, but it takes a while in this situation.”</p><p>The younger sighed, watching Qrow carefully. Red eyes still averted their gaze, focusing instead on the hot water held in his hands tensely; Clover longed to reach out, to tilt his chin up, to get Qrow to look at <em>him.</em></p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t trust me anymore, does he?</em>
</p><p>His heart began to ache as his mouth opened. How could he explain? How could he even begin to break down how he had reacted, how he had felt over the past few days, how he wished he could take it all back?</p><p>…how could he tell Qrow that he still believed that, even though he had hurt Qrow by doing so, Clover felt that rejecting his public kiss had been the safest option?</p><p>But still, the damage was done, and apologizing for hurting him could be a start to repairing things. The waitress popped in, asking hesitantly, “Do y’all want the usual food, too?”</p><p>“Yes please,” Clover replied. “It’s all on me today.”</p><p>She smiled, clearly relieved that someone was acting the same as always. “Gotcha.”</p><p>Once she was out of earshot, bringing their order for wings and dips to the kitchen, Clover leaned forward, clasping his hands around his pint. “Qrow, I wanted to apologize,” he murmured at last.</p><p>“For what?” The words were dry, sour- he knew exactly what Clover meant.</p><p>“For pushing you away,” Clover sighed. “I- I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m genuinely sorry that I did. I just… I’m not used to being… public with people.”</p><p>His brows shot upwards, disappearing behind his hair. “’Public with’- you’re telling me that a man your age has <em>never </em>gone public with- are you fucking serious? What, did you just figure out that you’re-”</p><p>“No!” Clover groaned, burying his face in his hands as he felt his cheeks flush so hotly they almost burned to touch. With a voice far weaker than he would’ve liked, he admitted, “Look, I’m from Atlas, okay? It’s not exactly… spoken about there.” He spat the words out, the half-truths tasting bitter upon his tongue, but he couldn’t be open- not yet, at least. He wasn’t lying about Atlas. He <em>was </em>lying about why it mattered, though. “Pretty damn taboo, actually. It’s not like here- at least, I’m guessing it’s not, considering how eager you were.” With a grimace, he added, “You get what I’m saying, Mr. Sociology Professor?”</p><p>For a long, quiet moment, Qrow merely blinked at him, taking in this information. “I thought- I thought you were from Mantle,” Qrow murmured, eyes slowly growing wide as understanding began to set in. “Wait, are you from there, or are you from <em>Atlas?</em>”</p><p>“Atlas.” Clover winced. <em>Do I really look like I’m from Mantle? </em>He deflated a little, his bruised pride aching even further as his long-since internalized distaste for the poorer capital of Solitas reared its ugly head. <em>I guess it makes sense. He’s figured out my neighbourhood. I can’t afford living in upper Vale yet. No wonder he didn’t think I’m from Atlas. </em></p><p>Qrow immediately leaned back in his seat, running his fingers through his hair before stroking his chin, lost in thought. “You’ve gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” he said, eyes hesitantly finding Clover’s at last. “I thought-“</p><p>Clover reached out once again, holding his hand open, palm up. “I didn’t mean to push you away,” he breathed clumsily, cursing himself. Where had all his confidence at work gone?! <em>What am I talking about? </em>he thought, exhausted. <em>I’ve never been collected in front of him. </em>“I just need more time.”</p><p>There was a brief moment when Qrow’s face twisted, his eyes flashing with an anxiety that Clover had never seen in him before; then, his hand slipped into Clover’s, the darkness of the pub hiding the way Clover immediately laced together their fingers and squeezed, relief coursing through his veins a headier drug than any liquor he could have ever consumed.</p><p>With a wry grin, Qrow murmured, “You’re such a baby.”</p><p>Clover rolled his eyes, trying to bite back the smile which wanted to overtake him expression. Qrow didn’t hate him. Qrow had understood, even if only partially, and he’d forgiven him.</p><p>Clover had managed to win more time with the elder, and he wasn’t going to squander it.</p><p>“I have an idea- well, two ideas,” Clover said, moving forward so he could hook his ankle around Qrow’s. The elder didn’t move away, waiting for him to continue, so he said, “First off, didn’t you say you have a larger home? If your nieces stay with you, then maybe that friend of theirs could stay, too? Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course.”</p><p>Qrow paused, assessing his options. “I certainly have room to spare,” he agreed, speaking slowly, “but I would have to look into it- professionally, unless they are blood-related, students should not be boarding with their professors, so I’ll have to ask the department head, see if there’s any paperwork that needs to be done.” He let out a small, whimsical sigh. “My goddamn nieces are going to be the death of me, aren’t they?”</p><p>“You love them for it, though.”</p><p>He snorted. “Yeah, lucky bastards.” He downed the rest of his water, wincing as it undoubtedly scalded him, then said, “What was the second thing?”</p><p>“You owe me dinner- we could make plans right now?”</p><p>To his surprise, Qrow pulled his hand away from Clover’s, the man’s heart shattering almost audibly for a moment- but Qrow simply waved down their waitress, winking at her with far more vim and vigour than he had had upon entering. He ordered a beer for himself, ignoring her teasing comments and turning back to Clover, slipping his hand back over top of the younger’s. “Alright, I’ll bite. I do owe you for Tuesday, I suppose. Boy scout got a raise, after all.”</p><p>Clover beamed as the two of them began discussing their plans for dinner the following week, the energy between them almost closer than ever before. And as the evening turned into nightfall, their tabs growing heavier and heads growing lighter, all the words and laughter shared began to blur together into one mess of warmth and happiness. The following morning, the only thing Clover could only focus on in his fuzzy memories was the fact that before they parted at the fifth stop on Qrow’s route, the elder had paused, looked around in his drunken stupor to ensure no one was around- a response that made Clover melt, no matter how much he wanted retain some dignity- then kissed Clover with more fervour than ever before; clumsy, stumbling, tongue ring clanking upon Clover’s teeth almost painfully. Clover didn’t mind it one bit.</p><p>Qrow would go slow for Clover. Qrow understood. And it was as he remembered that kiss while nursing his coffee late that morning that Clover realized that he was genuinely, truly in love with Qrow Branwen, and the feeling was as euphoric as it was terrifying, because for the first time in his life he knew that he was probably loved back, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter would've been up sooner, but I kept staring at it for over a week just going 'this doesn't feel right...' because GOD FORBID in romance stories people have HEALTHY COMMUNICATION and TALK THINGS OUT</p><p>smh this is why I'm not a fan of most romcoms- communication is key y'all. Writing two grown adults working through their issues shouldn't have felt so odd :(</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Nineteenth Show</strong>
</p><p>Clover was a grown man. A confident adult, a successful businessman who could handle himself in any situation. He was handsome and had had his fair share of suitors, could flirt his way into any sales deal, and could charm his way into anyone’s hearts if the need presented itself. He knew these things, and he was proud of the skillsets he had cultivated over the years.</p><p>So why was he blushing in the subway station like a virginal teen?</p><p>He could not stop his giddiness from taking over every few minutes, leaving him bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands tucked into his pockets. He wanted to pull out his phone and check the time, the location, the messages which had sent him to this place; he wanted to rush to the bathroom and check his reflection, his outfit, his hair. He needed to look perfect- he wanted <em>this </em>to be perfect.</p><p>He did manage to fight down that urge, however, simply allowing himself to meditate on the spot, focusing on his breathing as he tuned out the sounds of the people rushing past him upon the platform. Finally, the voice he had been waiting for murmured, “Looks like you won, boy scout. Did I keep you waiting?”</p><p>Qrow stood before him in a stylish zipped-up jacket and fitted jeans, cuffed above the ankles, exposing pale skin over taut bone over expensive loafers. His skin looked bright and if Clover squinted, it almost looked as if he had freshly shaved, his constant stubble a little gentler than usual. It was more effort than he put into his daily appearance, and Clover’s heartrate skyrocketed, for Qrow had tried for <em>him.</em></p><p>He looked <em>amazing. </em>Before he could hold back and doubt himself, Clover winked back at Qrow. “Only my whole life, you old crow.”</p><p>The pink that speckled Qrow’s cheeks warmed his heart as the elder jabbed at thumb towards the eastern exit of the station. “Wow, alright there. Easy does it. It’s this way. Let’s go.”</p><p>Clover allowed himself to be guided by the elder, keeping his eyes fixed upon Qrow so intently he almost tripped over a step down; Qrow caught him with a laugh, straightening him up and dusting off his shoulders. “Who’s clumsy now?” he teased.</p><p>“Only with you,” Clover groaned, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. As he looked around, however, he noticed the distinct lack of people in their exit tunnel. His courage surged for a moment; before it could fail him, he reached over and grabbed Qrow’s hand, winding their fingers together. “C’mon, we’ll be late.”</p><p>Qrow’s visible surprise quickly turned into impressed appreciation as he strengthened his grip as well, pulling Clover along. He didn’t say a word, but the peace in his face was enough to prove to Clover that he had done the right thing, despite his heart hammering inside of his ribcage at the thought of being seen.</p><p>When they arrived at Qrow’s planned destination- an adults-only movie theatre that seemed far more run-down than Clover had expected it to be- he finally dared to ask, “So why did you want to see a movie?”</p><p>Qrow shrugged, releasing his hand for a moment to pull out his wallet as they approached the till. “Because you’re from <em>Atlas,</em>” he groaned, exaggerating the word as if it were something filthy. “I’ve worked with plenty of people from there in the past. In my area of study they’ve…” the man grimaced bitterly, “they’ve contributed a <em>lot </em>of things to study in my field. Not <em>good </em>things, for the most part.”</p><p>Clover sighed, a little bit of shame welling up within him. He had listened to enough of Qrow’s podcasts, his seminars, his speeches; he had expected as much. There was no way that Qrow would ever have anything but distaste for what was ostensibly one of the most problematic places in the world in regards to equity and social justice.</p><p>However, Qrow continued, “And since people are so stuck-up there, I doubt they’d know how to have fun.” Turning back to Clover he wink, flashing sharp canines, a hit of silver glinting between his teeth. “You’re lucky that I’ve taken it upon myself to teach you how to live a little. I <em>am </em>a professor, after all.”</p><p>Clover instinctively snorted and rolled his eyes, the elder’s words enough to ease his heart a little. He could endure a little ribbing if it meant that Qrow accepted him in all his clumsiness.</p><p>Qrow paid for everything at the front, flashing a credit card at Clover with enough gusto and playful, mocking bravado to make the other man finally laugh aloud. Soon, they were situated inside a nearly-empty theatre with advertisements running across the screen for the pre-show warmup. Qrow glanced around, spotting the two other couples seated on opposite sides of the room near the centerline; he nodded happily and beckoned Clover to follow him into the very back, not stopping until they were tucked into the far right corner.</p><p>Clover frowned, glancing back at the center of the room. “Shouldn’t we sit over there?” he asked wryly. “It’s probably a better view.”</p><p>“Meh, the screen’s not that big, so you can see it fairly well from anywhere,” Qrow replied airily. “Why, are you a big movie buff?”</p><p>“Not particularly. I haven’t been in years.”</p><p>“Of <em>course </em>you haven’t.”</p><p>Clover raised a brow, pulling off his jacket and draping it over the empty chair at his side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Qrow laughed, shaking his head as he tossed his own jacket onto the same spare chair Clover was using. Clover gulped, taking a look at the elder’s figure; it still felt surreal to see the man out of dress shirts and blazers, after all. In the dim lighting, the plain white t-shirt upon his body was fairly fitted, still showing off clearly-defined biceps and a built chest, cloth stretching over pectorals that-</p><p>Clover blinked. Gulped. Eyes honed in upon Qrow’s chest. <em>Does… does he have nipple piercings, too?</em></p><p>With the way Qrow’s gaze followed Clover’s, glanced down, then raised again, only to narrow into a lascivious, feral grin, was all the confirmation Clover needed.</p><p>He sat down clumsily, unsure of how to process this information; however, he didn’t have much time to as the lights began to dim and the preshow proper began to thunder across the screen. The cinematic logos for film studios appeared to much fanfare as trailers started off, quieting the two other couples in the otherwise-empty theatre. Clover did not get an opportunity to look at the trailers- frankly, he didn’t even know what film they were there to see to begin with, since it had been so long since he had paid any attention to the cinema- but his distraction was not for the reason he would have expected.</p><p>The moment the lights dimmed and the sound from the speakers above their head drowned everything else out, Qrow’s hand slipped into Clover’s hair, pulled him over, and guided him into a kiss.</p><p>For a long moment, Clover was stupefied, merely shocked at the sudden touch. Then, he sprang back, feeling himself flush hotly. “We’re in a <em>theatre!</em>” he whispered, trying not to simultaneously laugh and yell, because of <em>course </em>Qrow would do this. “What are we, teenagers?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Atlas, did <em>you </em>get to do a lot of making out in theatres when you were a teen?”</p><p>“…not really.”</p><p>Even in the darkness of the theatre, the film’s lights were enough to glint off of white teeth, silver stud shining as his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. The sight of it made Clover weak, then sent his thoughts racing. Why was he protesting? What was he trying to prove?</p><p>Then, it hit him. <em>We’ve never done this sober before, have we?</em></p><p>The idea made him <em>melt. </em>So, he smiled, lifted the armrest between their seats, shifted so that he was facing the other man, and draped his arm over Qrow’s shoulder. “Fine, old man,” he teased. “Let’s see if you can play.”</p><p>Qrow took in the challenge with relish, those bare ankles wrapping around Clover legs, locking him in place. For the next ninety minutes, Qrow explored every inch of Clover’s mouth with his tongue, slowly and methodically breaking Clover down until he was naught but a panting mess in his seat, struggling to retain any semblance of calm while his blood rushed to fill the hickeys left in Qrow’s wake and his almost-painful erection. There was something thrilling about letting himself be so vulnerable, risking getting caught in favour of allowing the elder to do whatever he wanted. As Qrow’s lips travelled from his mouth to his chin, jawline, ear, neck, collarbone, and back up, and as Qrow allowed Clover’s hands to travel down the planes of his chest, landing upon two nipples bearing barbells- much to his scandalized delight- Clover found himself no longer caring, too focused on the heat of Qrow’s mouth and the wicked glint of red and silver watching him from the darkness.</p><p>And then, at the one-hour-fifty-minute mark, Qrow suddenly released him and pointed at the screen. “Look.”</p><p>Bleary and dishevelled, Clover looked up at the film. Nothing was going on; admittedly, it was a lovely shot, the protagonist framed by geometric angles in a colourfully lit fountain. Melancholic tears welled up in his eyes, but none spilled forth, the only indication of his struggle the trembling of his lips as the camera panned out farther and farther back.</p><p>It would’ve likely been an incredible moment had Clover had any idea what the film was even about.</p><p>His attention was torn away from the screen as he felt hands reaching down to his waist, fingers tracing his erection through the cloth. The squeak which escaped his throat was absolutely mortifying as he turned to see Qrow moving to unzip his pants, the lust on his face evident in every furrow of his brown, in the focus within half-lidded eyes.</p><p>“Qrow,” he begged, covering his lap, “that’s too much.”</p><p>Qrow froze, eyes unfathomably wide and innocent as they looked up at him in surprise. Then, just like that, Qrow slid upwards, fixing up Clover’s pants and shirt and smoothing out his hair. With a wry grin, he murmured, “Fair enough. Good on you for making it this far, kiddo.”</p><p>Clover flushed, burying his face in his hands at the smoothness of Qrow’s transition. By his side, he overheard Qrow gasp as he turned back to the screen. “Oh, that’s such a good angle for that lighting,” the elder murmured, somehow entranced by the film seamlessly.</p><p>“Have you already seen it?” Clover asked through his muffled hands.</p><p>Qrow nodded. “A colleague of mine recommended it a while back. Did you really think I’d come sit in a theatre with you for hours just to watch a film?”</p><p>“…isn’t that what you do on a date?”</p><p>To his surprise, Qrow’s entire face softened, the amount of warmth contrasting with his bruised, bitten lips and mussed hair, with the lines of hickeys upon his neck that would undoubtedly be visible the moment they stepped outside. “We can watch movies <em>for the movie </em>whenever you want,” he cooed, unexpectedly gentle.</p><p>Clover groaned, but he couldn’t fight back his affectionate smile as Qrow leaned in for a much softer kiss, tongue staying chastely in his own mouth.</p><p>By the time the credits began to roll, Clover had managed to regain some semblance of control over his heartbeat. As he stood and slipped on his jacket, Qrow leaned forward, pressing himself against the taller man while he fixed Clover’s hair. “You’ve got a little something there,” he teased, tapping Clover’s exposed collarbones.</p><p>Clover looked down and immediately sighed, spotting tiny bruises leading up from the hem of his shirt. “Goddammit, Qrow,” he breathed, equal parts exasperated and horrified.</p><p>Qrow merely shrugged and grabbed his own jacket, zipping it up to his chin. “And <em>that’s </em>why you wear high collars, folks,” he said proudly, stepping around Clover to exit the theatre, leaving Clover to bite down his flustered embarrassment on his own.</p><p>
  <em>He’s going to be the death of me.</em>
</p><p>And, strangely enough, Clover didn’t mind that thought one bit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Twentieth Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twentieth Call</strong>
</p><p>Clover managed to avoid most of the judgmental looks as they made their way out of the theatre, although he did experience the purest mortification he had ever felt in his life while passing the ticket checker; the young man took one look at his reddened cheeks and Qrow’s jaunty step and immediately smiled, biting his lips to prevent the laughter which undoubtedly wanted to spill forth. That humiliation made Clover want to curl up, leaving him burying his face in his hands, hunching over as he shuffled after Qrow away from the theatre.</p><p>A few steps out, however, a light touch settled upon his waist, distracting him. “Don’t be shy, boy scout,” Qrow murmured lowly into his ear, only further aggravating his blush. “C’mon. Let’s get some food.”</p><p>Clover wanted to protest, because he was perfectly within his rights to be humiliated with the assorted bruises and bites now littering his painfully-exposed neck; however, with the way Qrow’s face shone in excitement, he couldn’t say a word. So, he relented, gesturing for Qrow to lead the way, heart swelling as he felt Qrow’s hand move from his waist to reach out for his hand.</p><p>It wasn’t busy on the streets- in fact, barely anyone was out and about, which felt a little odd- but Clover still felt proud of the fact that he didn’t let go of Qrow’s hand, that he didn’t shy away. Judging by how Qrow paused at a pedestrian crossing, looking down at their joined hands before beaming up at Clover, the elder was proud of him, too.</p><p><em>I can do this, </em>Clover thought, lifting his chin slightly as he trailed after the elder. <em>I can do this.</em></p><p>And no one would mistreat him for it. Not here, in Vale.</p><p>They soon found themselves seated in a nearby Mistralian restaurant, ready to share rice bowls and little appetizers. As usual, Qrow knew the best combinations of drinks and food, so Clover was happy to let the man order for them both, curious to try the restaurant out. “There weren’t many Mistralian places around me growing up,” Clover explained when Qrow had to explain the nth dish to him.</p><p>Qrow’s eyes softened. “Damn. Don’t tell me you grew up on the military base?”</p><p>Clover winced, shrugging wryly. “Pretty damn close, yeah.”</p><p>“Xenophobic bastards,” Qrow muttered bitterly. Before Qrow could ask for more, clearly curious about Clover’s sordid upbringing in the upper echelons of Atlas, Qrow’s phone suddenly began to ring- it wasn’t the usual tone, however. Instead, a low, insistent beeping emerged from the device, changing the entire tone of the conversation, the air in their little private booth growing colder. “Sorry, gimme a second,” Qrow said, smile dropping off his face instantly as he dropped the menu.</p><p>Clover sat up straighter in his seat as he watched Qrow pick up the phone, worry blossoming in his heart for the elder. Was something going on? How could he help?</p><p>Qrow murmured, “Hey, bud, what’s going on?”</p><p>Immediately, he flinched as a decidedly-male voice wailed on the other end, “Qrow, did you <em>hear what’s going on with Blake-</em>“</p><p>“Yeah, Tai, jeez. You’re gonna make me go deaf,” Qrow replied, wincing as he brought the phone closer to his ear cautiously. “Calm down. We’re addressing it.”</p><p><em>Blake is Marrow’s cousin, isn’t she? </em>Clover leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands as he waited for Qrow to finish up. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but with the man on the other end yelling so loudly, there was no point pretending to not listen. Qrow seemed to not mind, flashing him a tiny smile, a silent <em>Thank you</em> forming upon his lips for his patience. Clover merely smiled in response, reaching out and grabbing Qrow’s free hand, brushing the skin tenderly while he waited.</p><p>The elder’s eyes creased happily into his smile before his attention returned to his phone call. Before the other man could yell again, he merely sighed, “Look, Tai, Ruby and Yang are seeing if she wants to stay with me for a bit.” The strange man- Tai, Qrow had called him- began to wail and protest unintelligibly again, but Qrow cut in. “No, it’s no big deal- you <em>know</em> I have more room for them. I’m happy to do it, I’m just waiting for Oz’s approval and for it to go through counselling and whatnot so- liabilities, yeah man. It’s good. Don’t worry.”</p><p>The man on the other end suddenly spoke too softly for Clover to hear, leaving him in the dark until Qrow finally murmured, “Yeah. I know. They’ll keep her safe, and my door’s open, so I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” The other man continued to speak. “For sure,” Qrow said easily, picking up his chopsticks once again.</p><p>Clover’s heart grew icy cold for a moment as he heard the other man loudly say, “Okay. I love you, you know that?”</p><p>And Qrow replied, “Yeah, love you too.” With that, he hung up the phone, putting it away and turning back to Clover. “So,” he said wryly, “ready to order?”</p><p>Clover’s mouth opened, a million and one questions upon his lips. <em>Who was that man? Why were you discussing your nieces? How does he know your student?</em></p><p>
  <em>Why would you say ‘I love you’ to someone-</em>
</p><p>Before he could run himself ragged mentally, however, Qrow frowned, sensing his confusion. “Is… something wrong?”</p><p>“No-“ But Qrow’s deadpan expression was too much to ignore, so he sighed, a shameful flush heating his ears and cheeks as he admitted, “…who was that?”</p><p>Qrow frowned, confused by his sudden hesitation. “That was Tai. He’s my-“ Then, his eyes lit up, red growing impossibly large as a brilliant smile bloomed upon his lips. “Are you- are you <em>jealous?”</em></p><p>Clover huffed, leaning back against his bench. “No, of course not-“</p><p>But Qrow was already too distracted, throwing his head back to release carefree, breathless laughter, deep and throaty. With the dim lighting of their booth, the marks upon his exposed neck were barely visible, but the shimmer in his eyes as tears began to well up in his disbelief shone anyways. He gasped, wiping his eyes, his expression so unbearably fond that Clover could not breathe.</p><p>“He’s my <em>brother,</em>” Qrow laughed, desperately trying to reign in his laughter as the waitress approached. “Y’know- my brother-in-law? The dad of my nieces?”</p><p>By the time the waitress had arrived, Clover’s face felt permanently affixed to his hands as Qrow affectionately and ruthlessly laughed at his brief misunderstanding. It had just been an innocent mistake- who could blame him?</p><p>Qrow clearly was charmed by the entire affair, not hesitating to take Clover’s hand and kiss his knuckles affectionately once their order had been taken. “I know I’m laughing, I just-“ and he chuckled a few more times, still fighting back hysterics, “-I just can’t believe anyone could think that we were together based on that conversation.” When Clover raised a brow at him, however, Qrow paused, thinking back. “…okay, maybe you’ve got a point.”</p><p>“Do you usually say ‘I love you’ to all your in-laws when you hang up?” Clover asked incredulously.</p><p>Qrow shook it off. “No, gods. He and I are pretty much all the family we’ve got, if I’m being honest. But the girls always say it, so it’s a habit, now.” A mischievous, cunning glint entered his eye. “What, you jealous with our little family bonding? Would you like to be included in that?”</p><p>A chill rushed down his spine, sending gooseflesh rising across his entire body. “C’mon, I wouldn’t want you to say something you didn’t mean,” he played off awkwardly.</p><p>Qrow glanced idly at the dessert menu on the side. Clover’s eyes followed Qrow’s; he seemed to be focusing on the mango passionfruit ice cream. It wasn’t what he would have expected the elder to like, but there was something oddly sweet about that.</p><p>Then, Qrow shrugged. “Me neither. I wouldn’t be lying in this case, though.”</p><p>It took him a few moments to realize that Clover’s brain had effectively shut down, processing those words numbly. Turning back to Clover at last, Qrow’s expression melted, his wry grin only growing as he teased, “Do you think I’d go down on anyone in a movie theatre?”</p><p>“We <em>didn’t-</em>“</p><p>“Because you are pure and I shall protect your chastity forever if that is your desire, oh fair maiden,” the elder mocked, but his words were soft, tender- loving.</p><p>Clover didn’t talk much during the rest of that meal- he was too focused on maintaining his composure as their food came, as his heart swelled and his eyes flooded with tears unbidden, because he had never expected those words to ever cross anyone’s lips ever again- and yet, here they were, and Qrow had offered his heart so easily that Clover could scarcely breathe. Qrow didn’t mind, simply filling the dead air between them gently- talking of his adventures going through college with Taiyang, his best friend and brother- more tales of his nieces, and of how his nieces’ friends were like daughters and nieces to Tai and Qrow, too- how, if everything went well, then he was going to let Blake stay with Ruby and Yang in Qrow’s home whilst the young woman took care of what she needed to do, giving Marrow some piece of mind.</p><p>“Where will you stay?” Clover croaked, clearing his throat once, twice, thrice to get the seemingly-permanent lodge in his throat to clear. It didn’t budge, too thick with emotion and disbelief.</p><p>Qrow shrugged. “On the couch. Damn brats have their own rooms, but <em>damn, </em>they’re loud- I do not want to be upstairs if they’ve taken over.”</p><p>Clover gulped, looking away. “I… I don’t have much room- it’s not a great place, I’m planning to get a new one now that I have that raise under my belt- but…” and he looked up at last, meeting Qrow’s waiting gaze. “My place is yours, if you want.”</p><p>The elder beamed, reaching across the table to cup Clover’s cheek, then to playfully wipe away a crumb on his lip. “I’d like that,” he rasped.</p><p>The noise of relief that slipped out of Clover’s throat would later haunt him with its pathetic, keening neediness, but at the moment, he couldn’t really respond in any other way. Qrow would stay with him. He had finally asked Qrow to <em>stay, </em>even if it wasn’t now- even if it was just in the future.</p><p>Any animosity he had felt in the past for Vale slipped away. It was an amazing city. He just had to look harder to see it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Twenty-First Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're finally back. Here's a shorter chapter so I can remember what the heck is actually going on in this story. There's only a few chapters left though, believe it or not!</p><p>If you're still reading along, let me know what you think! I'd love to see who's stuck around :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twenty-first Truth</strong>
</p><p>The Friday he brought Qrow back to his apartment was a sudden one.</p><p>The call was abrupt, jarring. Clover’s cell rarely rang in the office, having been set to only ring in case of emergency- he had long ago grown sick of listening to his mother’s increasingly-frustrated needling and Robyn’s jabs, so he had taken to ignoring his phone whenever possible as of late- and yet, here it was, ringing away despite the fact that James’ heel had yet to clear his doorway. The elder immediately stepped back into his office, raising a brow as Clover immediately dove for his cell phone.</p><p>Qrow’s voice did not sound anxious nor panicked, a sign which immediately soothed Clover’s spiked heartrate. “Hey, boy scout,” that familiar, lovely drawl rang in his ear. “Sorry to bother you at work, but I figured I should call instead of ambushing you on the way.”</p><p>“Sure- no worries,” Clover replied a little breathlessly, turning away from the door to hide his flushed face from James who watched him curiously. “What can I help you with?”</p><p>“Does that offer still stand?”</p><p>“Offer?” Clover paused, searching back through his memory. Had he offered to help Qrow with-</p><p>
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p><p>Heat flooded his body, knocking him so far off-balance that he found himself leaning onto his desk for support, clearing his throat to remove the blockage. His eyes flitted up to James, then immediately focused back upon the list of unread emails in his inbox as a means to distract himself, for the elder’s expression had switched from baffled to wickedly intrigued; he cleared his throat again, then replied shakily, “Of course. Anytime. Do you need it soon?”</p><p>“Today if it’s possible. The girls need to take over my apartment starting tonight, apparently.”</p><p>Taking in a long breath, Clover forced his shoulders to relax, his body to decompress. He needed to remain calm- why, he didn’t know, for Qrow had already seen his most embarrassing vulnerabilities (although James certainly hadn’t, so perhaps that was why)- so he focused on banishing the images which sprang to mind about what that evening would look like. <em>Qrow is coming home with me.</em></p><p>“-over? Clover, you there?”</p><p>Startled, Clover squeaked, “Y-yeah, I’m still here. I’m good.”</p><p>Qrow’s laughter rang clear and true even over the phone, his husky tones echoing in Clover’s ears. “Was worried for a second there, boy scout.”</p><p>Quietly, Clover sighed. “I’ll meet you at your office if you’d like?”</p><p>“University Station is fine.”</p><p>After exchanging soft goodbyes, Clover hung up the phone, turning off the volume on his phone. The action was interrupted however by a sly, amused question. “So who was <em>that, </em>hm?”</p><p>Clover gave James a rueful smile as he sank into his office chair. “You know.”</p><p>James’ eyes softened, the elder crossing his arms contentedly as he leaned against the doorframe for but a moment. “I’m glad you’ve found someone, Clover,” he said simply. “You’ve been far too focused on work all this time.”</p><p>Before Clover could protest, James left his office, leaving the man to stew in his embarrassment and shy, giddy glee. <em>Qrow’s actually going to stay with me, </em>he realized in wonder. <em>He’s actually going to </em>stay.</p><p>And stay, he seemed intent to do, for waiting at the base of the staircase leading up off the platform at University Station was none other than the professor himself, dressed in his usual grey blazer and dark slacks. A small duffel bag hung over his shoulder in place of his usual briefcase, and in his free hand was a bag of what looked to be takeout, likely from one of the many restaurants on campus.</p><p>Clover had to pause, taking in a deep breath as he prepared himself to approach the other man. How should he begin this? What should he say-</p><p>By chance, Qrow lifted his eyes, catching sight of Clover’s sleek outward figure. Immediately, the man’s crimson eyes lit up, a lopsided grin growing upon his face, emanating such unbearable softness that Clover had to bite his tongue to near-bleeding in order to fight off the immediate flush threatening to overtake him. There was no need to hide his affection, he knew- old habits died hard, though.</p><p>However, Qrow did not give him any more time to hesitate. Walking over to the younger, Qrow slung his small duffel bag over Clover’s shoulder. “My hero,” he said dryly, eyes flashing in amusement.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Clover hefted the bag properly and sighed. “Well, we’re riding to the last stop. Is that alright with you?”</p><p>“Lead the way, pretty boy.”</p><p>The journey itself was straightforward, and soon, Clover found himself just a few blocks away from his apartment building; the moment he realized where he was- just a few streetlights from actually admitting to Qrow in what kind of squalor he was living- his steps slowed to a halt on the sidewalk, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. What in the world would Qrow say, seeing it?</p><p><em>He doesn’t care, </em>his mind reasonably supplied. <em>He already knows you’re in this area. The subway, the streets- he doesn’t have any issue with it. Why bother trying to hide it?</em></p><p>Not for the first time, he cursed his family back in Atlas for placing this curse over him. He wasn’t living in a way that necessitated shame at all… right?</p><p>So why did he <em>care so much, </em>still?</p><p>So, taking in a deep breath, he readjusted his work bag and the duffel and beckoned Qrow along. “Almost there,” he said, praying that his smile was nowhere as tense as he felt. Judging by how Qrow’s frown deepened, it wasn’t the case. However, the elder said nothing as they finally arrived at his dingy apartment building, climbing up the stairs and finding their way to his unit.</p><p>As they walked in, however, Clover found that it wasn’t even the location or the neighbourhood that made him feel uncomfortable now that Qrow was in his home. No, it wasn’t either of those things- it was his apartment itself. The elder commented off-handed, “Damn. I figured you’d be a neat freak, but I didn’t expect… <em>this.</em>”</p><p>Clover felt himself flush, immediately clearing his throat and putting on his most sales-worthy smile. Never before had the starkness of his home been so prominently on display. It had never bothered him before, but now that someone was actually here to look at it… “I told you, I’m saving up,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on the completely plain, barren dining table. “I’ve been wanting to move downtown ever since I got here, so I didn’t invest in anything big that I would have to actually take with me.”</p><p>“No knickknacks? No trinkets?” Qrow whistled, glancing around the empty, plain apartment, his expression a mix of incredulous and amazed and mildly concerned. “I mean, there’s saving up, and then there’s…”</p><p>Clover shrugged, trying to play off the discomfort ravaging his heart. “I didn’t take a lot with me when I moved here, and with work being so busy, I never felt like really decorating.”</p><p>“Only here to eat and sleep, got it,” Qrow said, smile softening kindly. Taking a deep breath, he placed the food on the table and stretched, unbuttoning his blazer to relax a little bit. “Well. Home sweet home. I guess I’ll enjoy taking a break from my place.”</p><p>Raising a brow, Clover placed Qrow’s belongings on one of his sofas and then began grabbing plates for their dinner. “I guess your place is-“</p><p>“Running out of space, thanks to the kiddos.”</p><p>“Sure, blame it on them.”</p><p>Qrow leaned his head back and laughed, hearty and free as he unpacked the dinner and drinks he had bought for them. The sound of his deep, throaty laughter was enough to break the increasingly-oppressive atmosphere that had been steadily choking Clover’s heart. Qrow didn’t mind his home, didn’t judge him for it. It was alright.</p><p>Dinner was delicious, and soon, the duo were clinking beer cans and stretching after their meal. That could only last for so long, however, and Clover’s immediate desire to tidy up struck as it inevitably would. He quickly gathered the plates and headed to the sink, much to Qrow’s amusement, the elder quickly following him back into the small kitchen.</p><p>Halfway through washing the second dish, Qrow put down the dishcloth and asked, “So, Atlas boy. Why come to Vale at all?”</p><p>Clover froze, placing the plate in his hands into the sink wearily. How long had it been since he had truly confronted what had happened to him all those years ago? The mere thought of it caused his gut to seize, turning into solid rock in his core, weighing him down like concrete. How could he say it, when he had never uttered a word of it to anyone?</p><p>Qrow’s touch never pulled away as he debated. Leaning back into that warm, calloused touch, he finally murmured, “I… I dated a guy. Long-term in university. It was…” He trailed off, eyes misting over as he allowed himself to be brought back to a situation he swore he’d forget, yet never could.</p><p>“I’m guessing it wasn’t the shittiest,” Qrow muttered wryly, “until something happened?”</p><p>Clover laughed before he could stop himself, some of the heaviness abating underneath Qrow’s knowing gaze. “It was amazing at first,” he said simply. “And then, people found out, and he threw me under the bus.” The very thought of it was enough to make him grip the edge of the counter, the image of Robyn’s shocked face flashing into his mind enough to set his blood boiling. His half-sister had found out, and then, <em>everyone </em>had found out, and… here they were, after he had been left behind again and again.</p><p>Qrow winced visibly. “No wonder you left Atlas.”</p><p>“I don’t know how I even survived for <em>that long </em>in Atlas,” he admitted. “They’re not exactly… <em>welcoming </em>there.” Taking in a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, puffing his chest out. He had grown far too much since his days when he would hide in seedy parts of Mantle in order to avoid the wealthier families in his circle and their never-ending judgement. “Graduation was rough.”</p><p>“Family kicked you out?”</p><p>“Not a penny to my name.”</p><p>“Then why still call you constantly?”</p><p>And just like that, Clover felt his knees wobble, leaning onto the counter for support. “Guilt? To see whether I’ve been ‘cured’? I don’t know.”</p><p>“…I’m proud of you for leaving, then.”</p><p>“…Thank you.”</p><p>And he meant it. He had finally said it. After over a year of swallowing up the story that had haunted him for so long in Atlas, he had finally said those words aloud. It felt… freeing.</p><p>Wiry, powerful arms wrapped around Clover’s waist, a stubble-covered chin resting upon his shoulder, tickling him. “Good choice on coming here, then. Welcome to Vale, where no one cares about your relationships.”</p><p>“I stayed in Atlas for quite a while after university,” Clover said regretfully. “I thought everything would go back to normal eventually, but it never really did. Everywhere I went, rumours followed, so… yeah. We’re here now.”</p><p>He was unable to hide his disgust and disappointment from his voice, something which the elder immediately picked up on. “What, you’re not a fan of Vale?”</p><p>Clover chuckled awkwardly, shrugging. How could he possibly explain it, especially to <em>Qrow, </em>of all people? “I wasn’t really a fan of it… I mean, until recently.”</p><p>“What happened recently?” Qrow asked, his chuckles rumbling through his chest against Clover’s back. “Oh, of course- meeting <em>me </em>would be anyone’s highlight.” When Clover didn’t respond, simply going back to scrubbing grease off a plate, Qrow’s arms tightened around his torso. “You- that was a joke, you know. You <em>can’t be serious.</em>”</p><p>Clover smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe listening to you preach about income inequality on your podcast changed my views a bit,” he teased.</p><p>“Shut up,” Qrow groaned, letting go of Clover. The loss of the elder’s touch was instantly noticeable, gooseflesh rising upon Clover’s bare forearms in the absence of Qrow’s heat; however, rather than pulling away, Qrow simply placed the dishes into the sink and grabbed Clover by the hand, dragging him out of the kitchen.</p><p>“Qrow, wait-“</p><p>“We’ve got some lost time to make up for,” Qrow said firmly, his wicked grin almost audible in his tone. “You’ve made me wait long enough, and now that I know why you’re so worried about <em>this</em>, I can easily tell you that that kind of bullshit isn’t going to happen here- not with me.”</p><p>Qrow was not lying. Clover did not sleep very well that night. He did not mind at all, though.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://faultyparagonfiction.tumblr.com">@faultyparagonfiction</a> for updates, fanart, podfics and more! </p><p>I also just made a server for general fics/fanart and whatnot so DM me on Discord if you'd like to join!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Twenty-Second Figure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here's another one. Only a few chapters left, and I'll be freeeee</p><p>As stated in the last chapter, if you want to join a small general fandom Discord, send me a message! (fp8010)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twenty-Second Figure</strong>
</p><p>Waking up to Qrow was the best thing in the world, Clover decided that morning. Seeing crimson eyes open up, creasing happily before a long, pink tongue emerged to point childishly at him, was just the icing on the cake; the sight of the tongue piercing with which Clover had grown far more intimate than he would’ve ever imagined the night before made him decide that this could not possibly be real, that it had to be but a dream. After months of pining after the elder, how could this have become his life?</p><p>In a rough, raspy voice, Qrow murmured, his eyes falling shut once again, “It’s early. Go to bed.”</p><p>So, Clover obeyed, for his bed had never been cozier in that dingy little apartment.</p><p>Eventually, however, they had to crawl out of bed, an act which made Clover more aware of the sorry state of his apartment than ever; there was absolutely no room for the two of them to stand together in front of the bathroom sink while brushing their teeth. Qrow was happy to lean his head against Clover’s shoulder while he did so, though, so it wasn’t so bad. Clover’s usual cup of coffee tasted all the more delicious now that Qrow was seated at the table opposite to him, and even after he returned from the gym, finding the elder waiting expectantly for him made the ache in his muscles fade away.</p><p>Despite that gentle routine, he was more exhausted than he would have expected come Monday morning. He didn’t mind, though- something about making up two thermoses of coffee rather than just one felt right, and nothing about their activity that weekend was regrettable. Embarrassing, yes- incredibly so- but perfect, nonetheless.</p><p>Not even the squalor of the usual subway station could detract from his good mood, his smile carrying him over the stench of urine and waste rising up from the oddly humid station exit to ground level once he arrived at his office’s stop. After all, he could still feel Qrow’ lips on his cheek, the professor having pecked him goodbye at University Station (“I could get used to this,” the elder had laughed lightly, “’cause for once I might actually be on-time to that history lecture-“) and that high could not be tamped by anything.</p><p>Qrow wanted him, too. The thought still left him a little delirious.</p><p>The moment he walked into the office, Marrow interest was piqued. “Something good happen this weekend, bossman?” he asked, raising a brow curiously. “You look happy.”</p><p>Clover paused, taking a moment to check himself. The smile on his face was indeed wider than usual, the light in his eyes, brighter. With a quiet chuckle, he replied, “Coffee ready?”</p><p>“Always!” Marrow grinned with a light salute.</p><p>Taking a moment, Clover felt his heart settle down a tiny bit, for he was not the only one who apparently had had a positive weekend. “How goes it with your cousin?” he asked as he headed into his office to drop off his belongings.</p><p>Instantly, Marrow’s face split into a wide, relieved smile. “She’s staying with some friends, thank god. It was <em>rough </em>over the last while- my apartment is not meant to have multiple people there.”</p><p>Thinking back to his own place, Clover nodded in understanding, although he certainly did not mind his newest houseguest who took up what scant room remained in his home. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing a bit better.”</p><p>“Thanks,” was the beaming, grateful reply, the young secretary completely unaware of Clover’s personal investment in the situation.</p><p>With his heart a little lighter, Clover made his rounds of the office, watching another petty argument break out between Harriet and Vine whilst Elm contented herself to video-calling her nieces in her cubicle. It was a bizarre sight to be sure, but the moment Clover asked for the completed project, all three members of his main staff were able to procure results without hesitation before turning back to their nonsense.</p><p>He snorted, gathering the project files they had created. <em>Well, they’re reliable, at least, </em>he thought wryly as he carried the files to his office with Marrow’s help. <em>That’s comforting.</em></p><p>As always, work went well. James was back in the Atlesian main office of AST, so all Clover had to do was present their finished product to their latest client. The sales pitch went well, the contract signed; soon, everything was taken care of, and the sun was already beginning to set before he even began packing his belongings up for the day. By the time he was leaving the office, the air had begun to smell crisp, yet muggy, electricity crackling in the air for an impending storm. Checking the forecast, it was clear that that night would be a damp one, so he had all the incentive in the world to hurry home.</p><p>Yet, at University Station, he stepped off the train. Qrow was always surprising him at his office, and although it wasn’t their usual Tuesday takeout, he was sure the elder wouldn’t mind a little extra company on the ride home since they were finally going the same direction.</p><p>That very thought warmed his heart. He did not mind giving up his usual seat tucked at the end of his carriage if it was for Qrow- if it meant that he didn’t have to say goodbye at the elder’s stop.</p><p>However, the Department of Sociology’s building on campus was distinctly lacking any signs of the professor. “Sorry,” the administrative clerk said ruefully, “I haven’t seen him around since noon. I know he did have some back-to-back lectures, but they should have ended by now…”</p><p>“It’s alright,” Clover replied easily, hiding away his immediate worry. He could always text Qrow; perhaps the man had just stopped by to visit his nieces, to see how Blake was doing.</p><p>With that hopeful thought in mind, he set forth. <em>Maybe I can make him dinner, </em>he thought lightly. <em>I haven’t actually cooked for him- I’m sure I can make something, at least-</em></p><p>He paused halfway across campus as he finally finished messaging the elder about his plans. There weren’t really any students around- with the storm warnings having grown more official, it was clear that people had left campus as soon as possible, and he would be wise to do the same- and yet, it would still make sense to see people around the area. Late-night classes were common enough, and a decent amount of people lived on the campus itself, after all.</p><p>And yet, he could not shake the feeling that the solitary figure standing in front of one of the lecture buildings did not necessarily belong there. The rain hadn’t started yet; there was no reason to be lurking outside of the side door, hood drawn, hands shoved into the pockets of a large, bulky coat. With no one else around, it looked more than a little out of place to be waiting outside of those doors, especially without a backpack or anything to signal that the tall, lean figure might be waiting for a class to start.</p><p><em>I wonder if there are exams happening? I used to just show up with a pencil and pen for those. </em>The figure pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of their pocket, a trail of smoke soon filling the air lazily, rising upwards only to dissipate in the more turbulent winds above. The glow of the stranger’s cigarette allowed Clover to see a young, handsome face underneath his hood, along with a shock of dark red hair. <em>Well, </em>he thought wearily as he began to walk along once again, <em>I guess there’s all sorts of types at a school as big as this. No point worrying about it.</em></p><p>With that thought in mind, he continued along his way to the train station. Oddly enough, Qrow did not respond to his messages, something which worried Clover to no end, but there was absolutely no point lingering on campus while he waited for the other man’s reply.</p><p>His worries were instantly eased as he stepped through the threshold of his apartment, though. “Welcome home, boy scout,” came that familiar, husky voice from the kitchen, riding alongside tantalizing smells of rosemary and chicken. It was spoken so easily- so <em>normally, </em>as if those words had been exchanged between them for years.</p><p>Qrow eventually had to come to the front of the apartment to grab Clover himself. The younger was a little shell-shocked by the greeting; it had been a long, long time since someone had welcomed him back after work. <em>Blake can stay at Qrow’s house as long as she likes, </em>Clover thought to himself as Qrow ushered him inside, already dressed in some of Clover’s loungewear that was all a little too loose on the willowy man’s frame. <em>If Qrow can stay with me, they can have that house.</em></p><p>And as Clover looked over his finances that night to ensure that his pay had been deposited for the month, he didn’t even spare a thought towards his future place downtown. He had everything he needed right there with him, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Twenty-Third Shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>two chapters leftttttt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twenty-Third Shadow</strong>
</p><p>This routine was frighteningly easy to fall into, and Clover could not be happier. He would wake up to Qrow’s irritated, yet wry smile, put on a pot of coffee while the elder got ready, then wash up while Qrow made some quick breakfast and lunch. “I’m used to doing it for the kiddos,” he explained when Clover gawped at his perfectly-packed lunches, prepared just in the short amount of time it took for him to shower and shave. “What, did you want me to make them Mistral-style? Cute hearts in your lunchbox, is that it?”</p><p>Their banter was always light, and their morning was always complete with a phone call from Qrow to his nieces to check in with them. Ruby, a sweet-sounding, bubbly creature, was the one who answered the phone more often than not, with her older sister frequently finding herself hungover beyond belief. “I take afternoon classes for a reason, Qrow,” Clover could hear the elder niece call angrily one morning. “Let me sleep.”</p><p>The commute was always uneventful, but engaging; with Qrow now there to murmur in his ear, Clover had completely forgone any and all podcasts or music, simply relishing in the tales from the elder. Sometimes, he discussed the topics for that day’s classes, and other times, he recounted the tales of his nieces and his fellow faculty. Clover was content to listen to it all, finding that he spent more time with his eyes closed, his heart lulled by Qrow’s murmured tenor mingling with the creaking and squeaking of the train to turn into the most soothing song he had ever heard it his life. Then, at University Station, Qrow would kiss him goodbye, tease him for his embarrassed reaction, and head out, leaving Clover to bury the thoughts of the elder for the rest of the day until he came back home.</p><p>And by nightfall, he would see Qrow’s wicked smile, a flash of silver, and he would give himself up happily.</p><p>The one damper on the situation was that the mystery of Marrow’s younger cousin Blake. No matter when Qrow asked, his nieces maintained that while she was doing alright, Blake was still needing to be hidden away in Qrow’s home for as long as possible. Clover wanted to ask more about the situation, but with the professor being so tight-lipped on the matter, there was no point even trying to glean any info from the man.</p><p>At least he knew that Qrow was a good man, to offer his home unequivocally like this. Clover had chosen well.</p><p>One week passed in its entirety. Being able to go to Crow Bar with the elder, then go <em>home </em>with him, was one of the messiest, yet fulfilling thing he had ever done; while waking up with a terrible hangover half-fallen out of his own bed was never a good thing, there was something so wonderfully pure about being able to suffer through that with Qrow, the other man complaining every second for the rest of the morning until he had gotten some proper food into himself. It was simple, but it was perfect.</p><p>The following week, they carried on their tradition of getting takeout, thanks to a recent test the elder had to mark for multiple classes; Clover was more than happy to pick food up along the way, carrying it to the Department of Sociology’s building without hesitation. The faces of those who traversed the campus during these hours were growing more and more familiar as time wore on, and Clover found himself actually smiling and nodding at a few passersby whenever he made eye contact. It was still incredible, if he was being honest- he was becoming a part of this campus. The secretary waved when he entered the building, the other faculty nodding his way.</p><p>
  <em>…Vale really is becoming home, isn’t it?</em>
</p><p>As Clover stepped into Qrow’s office, the elder’s warm, welcoming smile which broke through his snarl of irritation and fatigue underlined that fact. Vale was really becoming his home.</p><p>He did not regret leaving Atlas, now more than ever. However, it wasn’t because he needed to escape. Not anymore.</p><p>Watching Qrow unpack whatever food Clover brought was always an adventure, so Clover contented himself to waiting for the elder to fill up his own plate with mixed vegetables and stir-fried noodles. His eyes wandered out the window while Qrow immediately launched into a quiet, bitter tirade about how students were completely misunderstanding the impacts of the recent gentrification of Mistral’s outskirts; the sound of Qrow’s passionate rambling had become the norm to surround himself in, after all.</p><p>Outside, the evening was growing quickly darker. Students shared greetings and goodbyes as they continued on their way home, and professors bustled about with large bags and carts filled with books and papers. It was the ordinary scene.</p><p>However, one silhouette did not move, even as Qrow finished grabbing his food and began making a plate for Clover. At first, Clover paid it no mind- there were plenty of people hanging around that seemed to be waiting for someone. As Clover began to focus upon the dark figure standing a hundred feet away from the building, located firmly between the nearest two lecture halls and the Department of Sociology, he realized just how familiar this silhouette was. <em>Isn’t that the same kid who was there last week? </em>he thought, raising his brow at the plume of smoke which rose out from underneath the young man’s hood. <em>Maybe he just lives on campus. Could be waiting for someone. </em></p><p>He didn’t get a chance to spare a thought on the strange, solitary figure, though, for Qrow had decided to begin throwing peas at him to get his attention. Raising a brow, he immediately turned, ready to engage with the elder who clearly needed a distraction from his marking woes. And later, any thought of strangeness on Beacon’s campus quickly evaporated by the time they went home, for Qrow had decided to take out his frustrations in a decidedly physical way.</p><p>Clover was not going to need to go to the gym while Qrow was staying over, he realized as he brushed his teeth that night. He had never been more contented yet exhausted in his life.</p><p>So, life carried on. That Friday, Qrow offered to take him someplace other than Crow Bar as thanks for allowing their cohabitation to continue, so Clover was cheery for most of the day, finding it easy to reach out to each of his employees for a one-on-one check-in. The main trio who worked in their cubicles were doing fine, as it turned out- Harriet had recently gotten into kickboxing, Vine was taking on another class at his yoga studio, and Elm was excited to be dragged along for one of her niece’s school camping trips as a chaperone, so she would be requesting leave within a few weeks.</p><p>The check-in which was lingering at the back of his mind as a priority was Marrow’s, thanks to his connection to the young man’s cousin. Thankfully, Marrow was doing far better than before, the light in his eyes and the rested alertness in his manner evident. “Blake’s doing well, Auntie Kali and Uncle Ghira aren’t always calling me anymore to see how she’s doing… life’s great!” Longingly, Marrow added, “I hope she can stay with her friends until this all blows over. That ex of hers needs to calm down.”</p><p>“An… ex?” Clover asked, confused. This was the first he had properly heard about what was going on with the young woman for whom Qrow had given his home up to his nieces.</p><p>Freezing in place, panic filled Marrow’s face as he frantically searched for a way to backpedal from what he said. “I- I mean-“ Quickly giving up, he sighed, explaining quietly so the others wouldn’t hear, “He was a scumbag. She dumped him, he wouldn’t take no, he started following her around, and… well, I’m glad he never knew I existed!”</p><p><em>Well that… was not what I was expecting. </em>Discomfort was all that could properly remain in anyone’s heart after hearing such a thing, and despite all of his professional, calculated demeanor, even Clover couldn’t help but reach out and clasp Marrow’s shoulder. “Good on you. Check in on her once in a while, okay?” After a moment, he added, “But let her take her time. Being with her friends probably is comforting.” <em>And that means Qrow can stay with me longer, </em>his traitorous mind threw in.</p><p>The thought of an ex-boyfriend being the cause of all of this heartache was a little baffling, and yet, Clover felt kindred to the young woman he had only seen briefly. Although he hadn’t gone through something so vile- in fact, his boyfriend hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after Robyn had leaked the truth about their relationship- Clover could still easily understand the sentiment of betrayal, if nothing else.</p><p>Perhaps that was why he sent Qrow an innocent text that afternoon before his meeting with a potential client. <em>‘How are the girls doing? Is their friend okay?’ </em>It was done purely on instinct, with no real motives behind it; he had just spent his lunch break stewing on the situation and needed to get his feelings out <em>somewhere.</em></p><p>Qrow’s grateful smile, his simple explanation of the facts now that Clover knew the truth, his quiet, “Thanks for checking in, boy scout,” when they met up after work that day, were all a little stunning. He had never thought that those bitter memories would be ever of any use, but as Qrow drunkenly fell asleep on his shoulder that night on the way home, he found that he felt lighter despite the weight he had been carrying around for so long.</p><p>It was nice, just worrying about carrying Qrow home rather than all of Clover’s baggage. He was happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Twenty-fourth Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this whole chapter unable to feel my fingers because winter is approaching and my gd apartment has no insulation for some reason. Save me plz</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twenty-fourth Introduction</strong>
</p><p>“Why don’t you just move in with me?”</p><p>Clover froze, almost dropping his coffee cup; as it was, the liquid sloshed around dangerously as his grip weakened for a moment, threatening to spill onto his lap. He righted himself at the last minute, but his twisted expression was caught by Qrow, the elder laughing at his shock.</p><p>“Seriously, Clover,” Qrow murmured, turning his gaze back down to the paper he was currently reading over through thin reading glasses perched upon the end of his nose, “why don’t you just move in with me? Once the kiddos go back to their place, I mean.” With a snort, he added, “Maybe then they’ll think twice before taking over the whole goddamn house like the usually do.”</p><p>Clearing his throat, Clover finally managed to put aside his shock, his heart swelling at the very thought of Qrow’s offer. “What,” he chuckled ruefully, “are you not a fan of this place?”</p><p>Qrow’s deadpan stare could have killed a lesser man. “A hot water pipe burst. Again.”</p><p>“The landlord’s trying her best,” Clover said with a wry shrug. “It’ll be fixed by tonight, I think- I saw the repairman coming in a while back.”</p><p>Qrow let out a sigh, his breath forming steam in the chilly apartment. “I mean it,” he said, pulling his glasses off his nose, smiling tenderly at Clover. “I’ve got room. You’re not a fan of this place- at least at mine, you won’t have to pay rent, so you can save up.” He pouted. “And then I won’t have to deal with freezing showers anymore.”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Clover laughed; rolling his eyes, Clover tilted down the screen of his laptop upon which he had been checking over an upcoming presentation, leaning his chin onto a propped-up hand. “You’d really be okay with that?” he murmured.</p><p>Without hesitation, Qrow leaned forward across the corner of the dining table where they had both sat down to work, kissing Clover lightly. “If you don’t want a mortgage from hell later, it’s probably a good idea,” the elder teased. “Save up some more. Stay with me.” Pushing Clover’s hair out of his eyes, he added coyly, “Or don’t bother buying a place at all. You can stay as long as you like.”</p><p>Flushing, Clover sighed, stretching his arms above his head. The tension in his back released, but his arms and chest still ached from his morning workout. “I’d like that,” he said softly, looking up at his plain white plastered ceiling. “You and me.”</p><p>Qrow settled the glasses back onto his nose, the utter image of peaceful domesticity seated at that table with papers strewn in front of him. “You and me,” he affirmed. “Why not, right?”</p><p>Clover turned back to his own work, a small question rising up his throat before he could stop it. “Have you lived with anyone before like this?” Immediately, he regretted the question; he sank into his chair, bracing himself for an answer he knew would not be pleasant to hear, even if it was all something in the past.</p><p>To his surprise, Qrow shook his head, a light flush dancing across his cheeks. “I, uh…” With an embarrassed chuckle, he explained, “Before the girls were born, I was… um… a bit of a player, you could say.”</p><p>“…They’re in university now, though.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“That’s… it’s been twenty years.”</p><p>Qrow shrugged. “You try going clubbing after babysitting for hours. Turns out those brats still need it, that’s all- blame them for turning me into an old man.” The two men laughed, the sound ringing into the chilly air comfortingly, warming up the tiny apartment effortlessly. The elder added, “And honestly, by the time I realized I was probably a bit too old for that kind of scene, I was already comfortable.”</p><p>Clover hummed in agreement. He understood what Qrow meant- before meeting the elder, he hadn’t thought of finding a partner in years after his constant rejection in Atlas. With that thought in mind, he reached out, placing his hand atop Qrow’s. “You’re sure you’d be okay with that?”</p><p>The elder beamed. “Pretty damn sure, boy scout.” His laugh caused a flash of silver to appear between his teeth, the image immediately causing Clover to flush despite his intimate relationship with that tongue piercing at this point. “Unless you don’t want to?”</p><p>“I’m more worried about what your nieces would think,” Clover admitted wryly, finally reaching the last slide of the presentation. “Will they be okay with it?”</p><p>“What, two men?” When Clover nodded, Qrow could only lean his head back and veritably cackle. Breathlessly, he said, “They’ll finally stop bitching at me to bring you around, at least.”</p><p>The confidence in his voice was stunning. “You know they’ll be okay with it.”</p><p>“They’re pretty good kids.” With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he added, “And besides, they’ve been bugging me to find someone since they figured out I was single, but they caught on that I’m with someone now. They’ll be happy to meet you.” His face fell slightly. “…you any good at gaming, though?” Clover nodded hesitantly- he was decent enough, if he remembered his earlier college days- and Qrow grinned further. “Good. That’s all they need.”</p><p>Before Clover could ask why in the world <em>that </em>would be their metric, of all things, Qrow suddenly lit up. “You wanna check out the place?”</p><p>“Right now?!”</p><p>Clover’s heart simultaneously sank and warmed as Qrow raised a knowing, teasing brow. “You can meet them, too.”</p><p><em>He wants me to meet his nieces. </em>He groaned, but he could not wipe the smile off his face. “I can’t win against you, huh?”</p><p>“Bold of you to assume you could at all, kid.”</p><p>And that was that. The two men threw on warm clothes to fend off the icy chill outside, relishing in each other’s warmth as they prepared to leave. It was still fairly early on that Saturday morning, so the roads were empty as they walked down to the subway station side by side, coffees in hand. The station was oddly serene; without the hubbub of the usual morning commuters, the platform at the start of Clover’s line was almost lonely, the chill numbing away even the scent of waste and litter which usually permeated the air.</p><p>They were the only ones to board the train. Rather than his usual seat, Clover sat by a window with Qrow next to him. For some ungodly reason, the air conditioning was still on in the creaking cabin, freezing them both further; however, his hands were warm, one comforted by the feel of the coffee in his hand, the other wrapped up in Qrow’s touch, hidden between their thighs side-by-side in the back of the carriage.</p><p>Five stops flew by, and immediately, Clover could <em>feel </em>the difference between this district and Clover’s. From the moment they exited the station, his eyes fell upon the clean streets, pressure-washed sidewalks and perfectly-landscaped greenery standing out in such stark contrast that his stomach fell in shame. The businesses were mostly boutiques, high-end brands on display in each shop window they passed on their way towards Qrow’s home.</p><p>It was so unlike his own neighbourhood. He felt pathetic.</p><p>Qrow seemed to understand his stiff smile right away; he reached out and squeezed Clover’s hand, murmuring, “It looks nice, but just as much shit happens here as anywhere else. Don’t worry about it.” Snorting, he added, “If you wanna be worried about anything, get ready for Yang and Ruby.”</p><p>Clover appreciated the distraction, focusing on Qrow’s profile and the heat of his touch rather than the tranquility of each and every pristine block they traversed through, so different from his own. “You mentioned we were dropping by, right?”</p><p>“I did. Told them to clean up a bit.” He sighed. “We’ll see how that goes. If it’s filthy, blame them.”</p><p>The two of them exchanged light banter about his nieces and what they would potentially find for the next few minutes as Qrow led Clover on their way, passing by quaint stores and wealthy housing projects with every step, until eventually they came to a stop in a small pocket of townhouses. Clover gulped as he looked up to the three-storey suite before him, the deep grey paint fresh and clean, the white windowsills and trim accents giving the sleek building pops of brightness. It was a place that was far bigger, and likely far pricier, than what Clover had in mind when thinking of his own place; after all, the only thing Clover had been truly looking for was an apartment building closer to the downtown Vale area with a gym inside, nothing more.</p><p>Qrow did not hesitate to walk up to the front door, unlocking it with ease before beckoning Clover inside. “Ruby? Yang?”</p><p>As Clover followed the elder inside, the face which appeared atop the front entrance stairs was neither of the nieces whose faces Clover had seen in Qrow’s photographs; instead, it was the student he had seen all that time before outside of the Department of Sociology’s building. <em>Marrow’s cousin’s still here, </em>he thought as he gave her a friendly nod.</p><p>She froze when she saw him, but was quick to smile at Qrow. “Thanks again for letting me stay here, sir,” Blake murmured quietly, brushing her black hair behind her ear. “Ruby and Yang are in the middle of a match.”</p><p>Leaning over to Clover, Qrow muttered, “I told you all they did here was game.” As he slipped of his shoes and began climbing the stairs, he called loudly, “Kiddos, I’m back.”</p><p>“Hey Uncle Qrow!” two bright voices cried out unanimously.</p><p>With no other choice but to follow, Clover slipped off his own shoes and walked up the stairs, nervousness causing his heartbeat to hammer inside his ribcage.</p><p>It only took two steps into the living room for him to be noticed. However, before he could say a word, a controller was flung into his face, the man managing to catch it just before it smacked into his nose. He faintly registered Qrow scolding the thrower, but all he could focus upon was a strong, confident voice saying, “Yo, you’re Qrow’s boyfriend now, right?”</p><p>Mutely, Clover looked over to Qrow. Then, he took in a deep, controlled breath and nodded.</p><p>The girl who spoke- Yang, his older niece, with her long blonde hair spilling down the back of the couch in a mess of waves and loose curls- grinned with a fire that Clover knew well from her uncle’s face. “Rad. Let’s see if you deserve him.”</p><p>“Yang!” the other girl cried. “Don’t bully Clover!” Ruby smiled sweetly at him, her short brunette bob dancing around her face as she added, “But also, we’re going to win.”</p><p>Clover looked at Qrow. The elder merely shrugged, walking into the kitchen. “I’m making something to drink. It’s freezing out there. Go kick their asses, lucky charm.”</p><p>From her seat on the arm of the couch upon which Yang sat as well, Blake snorted. “That’s a cute nickname,” she murmured.</p><p>Clover’s eyes twitched. “Are all college girls like this these days?” he asked, tossing his jacket onto the coatrack by the stairs before walking towards the trio. “That’s not exactly polite.”</p><p>“Meh,” Yang huffed. “Qrow says you’re cool, so it’s fine.”</p><p>Sighing, Clover sank into the lonesome armchair to the side, facing the screen that was currently showing the character selection screen for the game they were playing. “Fair enough,” he replied easily, readying himself to give it a shot.</p><p>Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two sisters exchange pleased grins before turning to Blake. The quiet girl shrugged. “I told you he seemed okay,” she laughed quietly.</p><p><em>Did she tell them about seeing me with him? </em>For some reason, that thought warmed his heart. Clover smiled, watching the trio tease one another. Blake seemed far more at ease than the time he had seen her on-campus; the marked difference was clear, and more than enough to fill him with a sense of pride for the trio.</p><p>Qrow interrupted him from his thoughts with a cup of tea under his nose. “If you don’t pay attention, they’re gonna kick your ass,” he commented dryly as he perched upon the armrest of Clover’s chair.</p><p>Clover merely rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the screen, taking a sip of his tea before setting onto the floor. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” he replied, just as deadpan.</p><p>And so, they spent the next few hours like that- chatting and watching the girls holler as they bounced between their games and a television series they had recently begun. Clover and Qrow cooked dinner after Qrow showed Clover around the house- “It’s a queen-sized bed, so don’t worry,” he commented under his breath with a wink right in front of the girls, embarrassing the younger beyond belief as he fought to maintain a calm expression- only for Clover to realize that he could actually, truly imagine living in this house. It was spacious and cozy and neat, with more than enough room for Clover to insert his few belongings into the gaps without causing the place to feel any different, any less like a <em>home.</em></p><p><em>Maybe I don’t need to live downtown after all, </em>he thought to himself as he watched Ruby and Yang bicker over the last portion of pasta. <em>Maybe this is enough.</em></p><p>Qrow’s smile certainly was, as was the way that Ruby murmured into his ear, “Take care of Uncle Qrow for us, okay? He’s never brought home anyone to meet us,” before they left to return to Clover’s place.</p><p>Maybe this life would be enough.</p><p>The two men waved goodbye to the girls standing at the door and headed home, stuffed and weary after dinner and drinks which Qrow had been more than happy to pour for Clover; the elder’s liquor collection was almost terrifying in its scope, a fact which Yang was far too proud of, much to Qrow’s chagrin. However, at the end of the day, Clover merely felt contented beyond measure, for despite all his years on this earth, this was the first time he had ever been <em>brought home </em>before.</p><p>He wasn’t something to hide. Despite all his usual cool, collected confidence, that thought was enough to make him giddy. Qrow was proud to have him by his side.</p><p>As they walked out of the neighbourhood, however, something caught his eye- a familiar silhouette, a familiar jacket, a familiar hood drawn up, exposing only a few reddish locks and a trail of cigarette smoke which rose into the sky. Clover frowned as he saw the figure across the street leaning against a post, so still he would’ve thought it was a statue were it not for the glow of a cigarette brightening every few seconds from under the figure’s hood.</p><p>
  <em>We’re still so far away from campus… why are they here?</em>
</p><p>Even as they turned the corner to rejoin the main roads, Clover could not shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. “Hey,” Clover asked, unease growing more and more fervent with every breath, with every step, “do you have any younger neighbours?”</p><p>Qrow snorted, cheeks flushed in the chilly night air, the elder clearly slightly buzzed from their drinks. “Honestly, no- this place is mostly wealthy older folk. More and more retirees are coming to the new development a few blocks down, too. I’ll fit in in a couple of years, finally,” he added with a chuckle. “Why?”</p><p>Clover jabbed his thumb behind him, pointing back without looking to where the figure leaned against the lamppost. “I’ve seen that kid before- pretty sure he’s a student in Beacon, that’s all. Wondering why he’s all the way out here.”</p><p>Incredulous, Qrow froze, looking back down the road. “Where? I don’t see anyone.”</p><p><em>What? </em>Clover spun around, only to gawp at the completely empty roadside. Where there had been a figure earlier was now just an empty street. <em>But… </em>Wordlessly, he jogged back, mind racing. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he just being paranoid? What was going on?</p><p>When he arrived at the spot where he had seen the young man smoking, his heart plummeted to the floor. There was no indication that anyone had been there-</p><p>-except for a crushed cigarette, the end still burning red with heat.</p><p>He gestured towards it, the cigarette standing out on the otherwise-spotless avenue. “I’m not crazy,” he laughed nervously, “see? Same red-haired kid as before definitely was-“</p><p>Without a word, Qrow tore off towards his home, and Clover realized at last what exactly was going on.</p><p>The next twenty minutes were all nothing but a blur. Clover called the police as he chased after Qrow, clumsily giving Qrow’s address to dispatch while praying for Qrow to stay out of the apartment. As he turned the corner onto Qrow’s street, however, he could see even at a distance the way the elder’s front door was left wide open, the clearest indication of where Qrow had gone. He tore into the house, climbing up the stairs three at a time; dispatch warned him to remain outside, but there was no way he could comply as he heard slamming doors and angry, vicious cries.</p><p>Blake screamed, “Adam, how did you-“</p><p>No one was on the main floor of the townhouse. He continued upwards, finally finding Ruby and Yang hovering protectively in front of Blake; the latter’s shirt had been torn, her hair mussed, her face covered in naught but pure, shaken fear. His body moved without even realizing it; suddenly, he was on the third floor, helping Qrow hold the pantry door shut, ignoring the roars and bloodthirsty screams coming from within the small closet.</p><p>And then, the police arrived, handcuffs were placed, and Blake Belladonna was finally given some respite.</p><p>It all felt like a dream. Statements were taken long into the night; in his drunken, adrenaline-flushed haze, Clover recounted each time he had seen Adam Taurus, Blake’s ex-boyfriend-turned-stalker over the past few weeks. By the time he was finally released, he was sober and exhausted, the sirens and flashing police lights causing a migraine that just wouldn’t go away.</p><p>They stayed in that queen-sized bed that night. The two men simply slept, with the girls on the second floor, camping out. Ruby called her friend Weiss to join them, the newcomer bringing food for them all as they huddled together in Ruby’s room, refusing to leave one another’s sides.</p><p>“Your nieces are good people,” Clover murmured come morning when he was awoken by the scent of pancakes and coffee wafting from the first floor.</p><p>“Of course,” Qrow replied groggily, leaning against Clover’s shoulder. “So are you,” he murmured.</p><p>When the two men finally came back downstairs, they found a spotless home, breakfast on the table, and a single message in Qrow’s phone. “We’re going to crash at Weiss’ place,” Yang had sent. “Thanks, Qrow! Have fun with Clover!”</p><p>And just like that, the whirlwind which was Qrow’s nieces was gone.</p><p>“…your nieces are dangerous.”</p><p>“They are. I trained them well.” However, as he helped Qrow clean up the destroyed pantry afterwards, there was little humour in Qrow’s face. Qrow’s furrowed brow wouldn’t smooth all morning as they tidied up, as they got ready to head out, as they locked the door firmly behind them.</p><p>That expression finally eased a little when they got back to Clover’s apartment. The elder headed straight for Clover’s bed, collapsing into it without hesitation. “Would you mind if I stayed here for a few more days,” he murmured into the pillow, “even though the girls are gone?”</p><p>Clover took a seat beside him, placing his hand on Qrow’s hair. The elder’s guilt and discomfort and frustration were clear as day. So, he hummed, stroking dark, grey-streaked locks gently, saying, “Yeah, if you’re okay with potential pipe bursts again. You’re on laundry duty this time, though.”</p><p>Qrow growled into the pillow, but the smile on his face was true, more at ease than it had been for the past twelve hours. And that was enough for now.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Twenty-fifth Welcome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're done! This was one of my very first FG works so it's a relief to finally have completed it. I will admit, I went into the project with absolutely no idea of how the story should go (even more so than usual) so I will be the first to say that it wasn't exactly the smoothest narrative, but I hope you enjoyed it!</p><p>If you've read along this story to this point, please leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this fic! It would mean a lot to me :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Twenty-fifth Welcome</strong>
</p><p>Time passed. Seasons changed, the winter’s chill leaving behind flowers blooming in the beautiful gardens littering Beacon University, the students hopeful as they worked through another semester. Blake Belladonna was happily able to return to her original apartment now that the hubbub had died down; seeing her smiling more around campus set Clover’s heart at ease, for he would always feel a little guilty after finding out about how Adam had followed himself and Qrow in order to find out where Blake had been staying. However, with the young woman safe, at least Marrow was able to rest easy, knowing that everything had finally, truly gotten resolved.</p><p>With the addition of Clover into their lives, Ruby and Yang stopped coming around to Qrow’s house as often to hang out, although the two girls still dropped by at least once every two weeks to hang out with their uncle- and to challenge Clover to whatever game they wanted to play that week. It was baffling to realize just how easily the girls accepted him into their little family, that sentiment only amplified when the holiday season arrived and Clover got to meet Taiyang, their father. He recognized the blond from the photograph perched proudly upon the bureau in Qrow’s office, but the vibrant man was more excited than Clover could have ever hoped for to meet Clover, and so, Clover was welcomed with open arms.</p><p>Almost every night was spent at Qrow’s home, the townhouse slowly becoming more lively, more <em>lived-in, </em>as Clover began moving his scant belongings over; every night aside from Fridays, however, for Yang sometimes liked taking over Qrow’s townhouse on those evenings. Qrow had no desire to deal with her drunken friends whenever he and Clover returned from Crow Bar, so those nights were spent in Clover’s tiny apartment, riding out the end of his lease.</p><p>However, everything had to come to a conclusion somehow.</p><p>Clover smiled sheepishly at the tiny old woman at his door looking up at him forlornly through her giant spectacles, her mouth so widely creased into a frown that he almost felt bad for the refusal- almost.</p><p>“Oh, well that’s just a damn shame,” Maria sighed, tapping her cane onto the ground with a sense of bittersweet finality. “You really don’t want to renew your contract?”</p><p>“No, Maria,” he smiled gently, shivering as the brisk air from the hallway brushed against his bare arms. “I’ve actually already found another place.”</p><p>Her frowned only deepened. “Oh, but what am I going to tell my granddaughter?” she cried, pouting.</p><p>Clover chuckled clumsily. “You know, I’m flattered, but I really can’t, I-“</p><p>“Hey, Mr. Good-luck-charm, you’re letting out the hot air in here,” Qrow suddenly called from the bedroom. Clover jumped as the elder stepped out, then sighed in relief as he realized that the elder had at least had the common sense to throw on a t-shirt rather than coming to the door shirtless; his poor old landlord did not need to see the nipple piercings sported by the elder.</p><p>That relief immediately fell away to horror, however, when he realized that the neckline did absolutely nothing to cover the bruises littering the elder’s collarbone and neck. Qrow clearly didn’t notice them, though, for he did not hesitate to look at Maria, murmuring, “Oh, your landlord- wait a second…”</p><p>Maria’s eyes narrowed, the old woman craning her head up to look closely at Qrow’s face. “Wait, do I know you?”</p><p>Out of nowhere, Qrow’s face lit up like a red streetlight, a brilliant red from below his neckline to the tips of his ears. Clover could see the beads of sweat building on his brow as the elder cried, “Maria Cavalera?” Qrow turned to look at Clover, absolutely scandalized. “Your landlord is <em>Maria Calavera?!</em>”</p><p>“Yes!” Clover said, stepping back against the other side of the doorframe. “Do you know each other?”</p><p>Qrow did not respond, only burying his face in his hands as Maria cried, “Oh, it’s little Qrow Branwen! Look at you, an old man yourself, eh? How many years has it been? You still at Beacon?”</p><p>Mutely, Qrow nodded, and the woman laughed heartily as she noticed the hickeys at last. “Clover, you’re wasted on this fool! Although I guess I’m happy knowing you’re with him, even though it’s not the same as with my granddaughter.”</p><p>Laughing weakly, Clover asked, “And why’s that?” as his eyes honed in on Qrow, begging for an explanation which the elder clearly was not ready to give.</p><p>Maria grinned, her teeth brilliant and strong despite her age. “Since you’re dating my former student I guess I can think of you as my kid now!” Her smile fell away quickly, though, as she added, “But really, you’re both wasted on each other. Shoulda figured out a way to eat you both up when I had the chance.”</p><p>Qrow and Clover both immediately coughed on their words, unable to do more than wave goodbye as Maria cheerfully waddled away, the woman calling, “Take care of Clover, Branwen you lazy brat!” as she entered the elevator.</p><p>Once she was gone and the door was closed once again, Clover immediately turned on Qrow. “Okay, how do you know <em>everyone in my life?</em>”</p><p>Qrow held up his hands innocently, his face still burning beyond measure. “She was my Ph.D. supervisor, okay? That was… god, almost fifteen years ago? After she left Beacon’s faculty she stopped participating in academia at all- I didn’t know she was lurking on this side of town!”</p><p>Clover groaned, walking back to the bedroom. The bedsheets were in absolute disarray, evidence of what they had been up to before the interruption; however, he went straight for the opened suitcase upon the floor, continuing with folding up the clothes he had picked out the night before in order to pack it up soon. “You say that, but you also knew my boss.”</p><p>“Look,” Qrow sighed, squatting next to his own suitcase, “I didn’t know that James was your boss. You’ve never mentioned him by his full name.”</p><p>Clover’s face heated up at the mere thought of the corporate party Clover had brought Qrow to at the start of the new year; the way that James’ face had twisted and soured, mirroring Qrow’s perfectly, was still forever engrained into his mind. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with him,” he sighed wearily.</p><p>“Yeah, and he’s a boring lay,” Qrow said crudely, much to Clover’s shock. He shrugged as the younger gawped at him, turning back to folding up socks. “Look, it was over ten years ago!”</p><p>Clover sighed, but he wasn’t upset. “Yeah, I know.” Wryly, he added, “At least I know now that he isn’t homophobic.”</p><p>“He isn’t,” Qrow agreed. “An absolute idiot-“</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover warned, raising a brow.</p><p>“-but not homophobic, don’t worry. Not like most of Atlas.” Qrow’s face soured slightly, growing pensive. The elder reached over, grabbing Clover’s hand. “You know what <em>is </em>good in Solitas, though?” To Clover’s blank look, he explained, “Bar hopping around Mantle.”</p><p>Clover’s expression clouded, discomfort rising up into his throat. “I… I don’t really have good memories of that,” he admitted quietly, fists balling up in the fabric of a towel. Packing itself had been stressing him out as of late. The fact that they were going back to Solitas, to <em>Atlas, </em>for the large-scale family reunion which he had been ignoring for almost a year now, still unsettled him beyond measure; what was he supposed to do when he saw Robyn? When he saw his mother? When he saw all of his relatives, all of their colleagues, all of the people who had turned their backs on him the moment they had found out about his sexual orientation?</p><p>“…You’re not ready to go back.”</p><p>“I haven’t really been back since college for a reason.”</p><p>He was startled out of his discomfort with a hearty slap on the back, the force enough to mildly wind him. As he recovered, Qrow said brightly, “Well, in that case, I’ll have to take you everywhere around Mantle. No point in wasting a good opportunity to get rid of those memories, right?”</p><p>Even though he was struggling to compose himself, Clover couldn’t help but smile, warmth blossoming up into his chest as he looked at the confidence exuded by the elder. <em>Of course he’d want to explore the streets of Mantle again, </em>he thought, his mind automatically filling in information about the poorer city; the elder had discussed Atlas’ poor neighbouring city many a time in his recorded lectures and podcasts, almost to the point where Clover could practically recite all the reasons why Qrow loved the dingy city Clover had been raised to avoid.</p><p>He had a feeling that with Qrow, he could learn to love Mantle, too. The elder had already taught him to cherish Vale, after all. “…Okay,” he murmured, finally straightening up. “Let’s go. It’s a deal.”</p><p>Qrow beamed, his wicked grin softening to be gentle and warm. Quietly, the man sat on his bottom, leaning back against the side of the bed. “I’m going to miss this little apartment though,” he admitted wryly. “We’ll barely be here after we come back, you know.”</p><p>“That’s probably a good thing,” Clover laughed ruefully, “because you know Robyn’s going to hunt me down when she sees you. I wouldn’t put it past her to follow me to Vale. It’s probably good not to stay here for too long.”</p><p>Qrow rolled his eyes. “Should we give her something to hunt us down for?” he purred, sticking his tongue out at Clover.</p><p>“You have the worst personality,” Clover sighed, although his smile could not be tamped down.</p><p>Strong, yet wiry arms wrapped around his waist, lips pressing into his shoulder. “Better than no personality- like this apartment,” Qrow teased. “I for one will be pretty happy to be out of here.”</p><p>“Yang’s going to interrupt us on Fridays from now on, you know that, right?”</p><p>Qrow grinned. “She’ll do it just once, then never do it again. She’s a quick learner, don’t worry.”</p><p>Clover groaned, leaning back into Qrow’s arms, resting his weight against the elder. “That isn’t exactly comforting,” he said dully. “Although I don’t know what I expected from you.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>And so, packing continued. And when their bags were ready to go by that evening, they gathered up their things and threw on thick winter coats, ready to endure Solitas’ northern weather. The taxi arrived just as the sun began to set behind the city’s skyline, the pink and purple hues permeating through the sky filling the world with a breathtaking rosy glow; that colour reflected off of Qrow’s amused expression while they loaded their small suitcases into the trunk of the taxi, the driver impatient as he waited to carry them off to the airport.</p><p>Clover’s tension eased as he sat in the car, feeling Qrow’s fingers lace through his own. “Don’t worry, Clover,” he breathed. “Let’s give ‘em hell.” And red eyes creased into thin crescents, that devilish smile completed with a glint of silver shining between white, straight teeth, and Clover knew that no matter what happened in Solitas, he was going to be happy with the results.</p><p>Still, he couldn’t wait to come back to Vale- to come home. He turned his hand, pressing his palm against Qrow’s as he twined their fingers together once again. “Sounds like a plan, Qrow.”</p><p>And they were off.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>-fin-</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're done! </p><p>Here are my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898392">other FG works!</a> I've got over 400k of FG content, so take a look!</p><p><em>Other RWBY series:</em><br/>If you want to see more of Qrow in canon, check out my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1448095">Qrow Branwen-Centric Fic series!</a></p><p>Here are <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690948">AUs both set in canon and out</a> for RWBY. </p><p>If you want to stay completely within RWBY's canon, here is <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815229">another series of completely canon-compliant fics for you.</a></p><p>If you're looking for a long series in canon and like Team JNPR, here's a series that's a <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1448071">rewrite of Vol. 1-6 through Pyrrha and Nora's eyes!</a></p><p>Cheers for reading, y'all! See you in my other fics, and let me know what you thought of this fic!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave a comment if you're reading along :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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